


Harry's Housekeeping

by Wolven_Spirits



Series: Harry Potter Masters Death [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 10th Generation Vongola, Arcobaleno - Freeform, Assassins & Hitmen, Chiavarone Famiglia, Gen, Harry's pretty badass though, Master of Death Harry Potter, Oblivious Harry, Poor Skull, Teddy Lupin was Raised by Harry Potter, Teddy is Skull, Varia - Freeform, overprotective skull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: It was a simple case of mistaken identity, but Harry had always been good at cleaning, so he didn't really mind.





	1. Hello, this is Harry's Housekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken many artistic liberties with the characters, setting, timeline, etc, etc. You can feel free to point out inconsistencies with canon, but most likely it’s on purpose.
> 
> This is a very drabble-y fic, with no real plot line. Just Harry learning to enjoy his life as he slowly gets pulled into the KHR world. Mostly just fun but it’ll have its serious moments.
> 
> I am OPEN to prompts and scene requests, though I may not write all the ones I receive. Feel free to prompt through a review or a PM. If it does not fit this fic then I may post a oneshot. If I write any lemons, they’ll be posted to my AO3. Open to slash and het but this fic has no pairings.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Harry’s Housekeeping**

**Chapter 1**

Harry hummed as he wandered the streets of Milan. He didn’t really know where he was going, but that was alright. It was always more fun when he let his magic guide him.

Really, he was here because Teddy ( _Skull now_ , he scolded himself) had mentioned getting a job in Italy, and Harry loved seeing his shows, even if he nearly had a heart attack whenever he watched the death-defying stunts. But Teddy had not given him any show dates, so here he was, checking out cozy cafes and admiring the vibrant streets.

He turned left, then left again, admiring the way the houses he passed got more and more elaborate the further he walked. Most of them at this point spanned a full block each, with tall, elaborate gates that glinted richly in the sun.

He paused in front of one of the gates crested with two rearing horses. His head tilted to the side, before he noticed his untied shoelace. He stooped down and had only just begun to stand up when someone grabbed his arm.

“Oi, you’re late!” The man growled in Italian, tugging him towards a waiting car.

“I’m sorry?” He replied in English automatically, before repeating himself in Italian.

“Damn foreign workers,” the man grunted to himself. “I said you’re late. I’m docking your pay for making us wait. C’mon, the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He shoved Harry into the car and then they were off.

Harry knew he should be concerned. He was essentially being kidnapped, after all. But his magic was drifting gently around him, unconcerned, so he simply stared out the window. Sometimes he wondered if he should be worried about his general lack of strong emotions, but he _knew_ he loved his godson, so really, that was all that mattered.

They drove out of the city until they reached a small country house surrounded by large fields. A few cattle turned to stare as they drove up the long driveway. The house itself was made of stone and looked rather picturesque. They got out and were greeted by a man wearing a black suit.

“You’re late,” he said, as he motioned the two of them over.

“Newbie here.” His kidnapper grunted in reply, jerking his thumb at Harry. “Needs a damn watch.”

Harry shrugged. It was true. He’d never actually owned a watch, though now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he’d seen a pocket watch in the Potter Heirloom vault. Perhaps he’d grab it next time he was there.

“Get to work then,” the man in the suit glared at Harry, gesturing him inside, before turning to stand guard.

“I’ll take care of the perimeter and remove all traces there. You get to clean up inside,” the man grinned rather nastily before he left.

Harry hummed his acquiescence and stepped inside. The decor was quite simple, and there was very little dust even on top of the picture frames that decorated the hallway. He stepped further inside and glanced into the living room.

Ah.

It was splashed a vivid, blood red. A blood red that had already soaked into the carpet. There were three bodies strewn along the floor, eyes wide and staring, throats slashed.

Harry sighed. He thought about just leaving, but his magic was still thrumming cheerfully and really, he had nothing better to do, so he got to work instead. A quick search revealed a small broom closet. He filled a bucket with soap and water and got to work. The garbage bags were a little small, so Harry had to fold the bodies up awkwardly to fit them in. He heard a few bones crack as he shoved the bodies in, but the dead couldn’t feel, so he wasn’t too bothered by it. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to clean up a dead body, after all. Even after the death of their Master, the Death Eaters had been quite ferocious. More than once Harry had found himself fighting for his life. The first few times had been messy, but he’d learned quickly that the cleaner the death, the less work was required afterwards. He’d gotten quite good at cleaning charms, nonetheless. He rather wished that the muggle wasn’t standing guard. Cleaning up would be much easier with magic.

Well, he thought as he began to scrub at the carpet, as long as they didn’t _see_ what he was doing…

He began to hum a cheerful melody, the notes guided by his magic. The blood staining the carpet was more than happy to comply with is wishes, and leapt to his brush, leaving not a trace left behind.

Pleased, he dumped out the water into the sink, and then flushed it out with some bleach. He glanced at the three bags left with a slight frown. He wasn’t too sure what the common procedure was for body disposal, but it didn’t seem like the greatest idea to drive around with dead bodies in the car. He glanced at the fireplace and shrugged. It was certainly large enough. And a little bit of extra power behind the fire would ensure that only ashes would remain.

He made a small shield around the body, and then set it on fire. He blinked as it exploded in hungry flames that ate away until, after mere minutes, there was nothing left but ashes floating inside the sphere. A quick _evanesco_ got rid of the evidence, but he used less power with the next two bodies, content to let the fire work away at a more… believable pace.

He was just putting away the cleaning supplies when his kidnapper came striding down the hall.

“Oi, Newbie, how much longer you gonna-“ the man stopped as he stared at the spotless room. He narrowed his eyes as he turned to Harry. “What’d you do with the bodies?”

“Burned them,” Harry replied, tilting his head. He tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Didn’t really know what else to do with them.”

The man sniffed the air. “Doesn’t smell like it,” he said, his hand twitching - likely towards a hidden weapon.

Harry raised his hands slightly. “I was very careful. It’s my _job_ to clean up all the evidence.” He replied with a slight frown, slightly affronted at the lack of confidence in his skills. While he very much loathed the Dursleys, he had to admit that Aunt Petunia had taught him well. When Harry cleaned, not even the slightest hint of dirt remained. _Sterile_ , he thought rather proudly.

“Flames?” The man eyed him warily.

“Well, yeah.”

“What kind?”

“The… strong kind?” Harry pressed his finger to his lips, not willing to break the Statute of Secrecy just for one overly curious muggle.

His kidnapper grunted, staring at him in a new light. “Fine,” he grunted. He did a quick scan of the rest of the house before nodding. “Job’s done, let’s go.”

Harry followed obediently, his magic still whistling cheerfully around him. They drove back to the mansion where he had been picked up and walked around the side to a small entrance. It was not as ornate as the main entrance, but it had its own flare, which rather impressed Harry. Most servant entrances were as condescending as the attitude of the masters.

“Paperwork,” his kidnapper grunted, plopping down a pile of papers onto the desk in front of Harry. “You passed probation. Congratulations,” he drawled, throwing down a pen.

Harry hummed his thanks and glanced down. It was a standard contract, really, though the oath of secrecy was quite strict. He didn’t mind, though. It’s not like he had any reason to talk about dead bodies. And, he reasoned as he read through the rest, it was not as strict or binding as some of the ones he had sworn during his training during the war.

 _Harry_ , he filled out his first name. _Black_ , he filled out for his surname. It was his muggle identity, and it had served him well for many years. He filled out the address of one of his muggle homes - one he’d bought years ago in the Italian countryside during his travels with Teddy - but paused at the next entry. “Ah,” he said with slight dismay. “I’m afraid I don’t have a phone number.”

His kidnapper ( _potential employer_ , he corrected himself) stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t have - then how the hell did you-“ he rubbed his face with a sigh then waved a hand at him. “Just fill out the rest. I’ll figure it out.” He grumbled something about foreigners, but Harry didn’t bother paying attention.

He signed his name at the bottom and presented his kidnap - er - his new boss with his forms. His boss handed him a paycheque. He stared down at the amount. “Wow,” he murmured, and received an odd look in return. He hadn’t payed much attention to the financial side of the contract because, well, it wasn’t like he really _needecd_ the money. His inheritance was making more than enough interest for him to live comfortably for multiple lifetimes, and the Potter and Black investments were even more profitable. So he really didn’t need a job, and in all honesty he wasn’t too sure why he had taken this one. But his magic had never led him astray before (though Teddy - _Skull_ \- would disagree), and he had been getting a little bored. And if he didn’t like it, he could always leave. He’d changed his identity before, and he could do it again. It wouldn’t be hard.

Besides, the Underworld wasn’t entirely new to him, but he had never really explored it, so this was actually rather exciting. Skull would probably scold him if he found out, but his godson looked so _cute_ when he was all puffed up in anger. Ah, especially back when he was just a child, acting so very adult in the face of Harry’s frequent bouts of childishness. Harry sighed. And now Skull was off gallivanting on Sirius’ old bike, pulling crazy stunts and getting a job like an adult. Such a shame.

Harry left the mansion with orders to return the next day at eight o’clock sharp to start his official training. Not about his cleaning, his boss assured him upon seeing his offended frown, but rather to integrate him into the mafia world. He probably should have been worried, but instead he smiled and wandered the streets until he found an empty alleyway and apparated back home.

He took a nice long shower, ate a quick meal, then sat down at his desk with parchment and a quill. _Dear Skull_ , he write in a cheerful script. _I got a new job!_


	2. How can I help you?

**Chapter Two**

 

Skull glanced up from his breakfast to the sound of a familiar pecking at the window. “Mort!” He chirped as he stood up and skipped his way to the window. “You’re just in time for breakfast! You can have my bacon,” he held out his arm for the large raven before latching the window closed again. Mort croaked and stuck out his leg, and Skull obediently untied the roll of parchment. He grinned as he saw the familiar writing. A letter from Harry! He couldn’t wait to read it!

He heard footsteps moving closer as he sat back down. Skull was the first to wake up, as usual. Luce was normally second, with Reborn not far behind. He scowled at the thought of the hitman. The Sun was a bit of a jerk, and Skull often wanted to punch him in the face, but Harry always told him that it was best to let others underestimate you, so he just laughed it off. Besides, he had promised Harry that he would do his best to keep his enhanced strength a secret. The less people knew about his werewolf heritage, the better.

“Ah, Skull, up early as usual,” Luce smiled as she sat at her spot at the head of the table.

Skull grinned. “The great Skull-sama is above weaknesses such as sleep!” He exclaimed. Then he yawned and he heard Reborn scoff. He huffed as the hitman took his seat next to Luce and immediately poured himself a coffee.

“And such a beautiful bird!” Luce exclaimed just as Reborn opened his mouth to speak - likely to insult Skull.

“This is Mort!” Skull said proudly. “He always finds me, no matter where I am!”

Luce beamed and Reborn grumbled. Mort eyed them both before croaking loudly in Skull’s ear. The raven then hopped onto the table and stole Skull’s sausage.

“Hey!” Skull protested. “I left you the bacon!”

“What are you holding, Lackey?” Reborn demanded, his eyes narrowed on the parchment in Skull’s hand. “A new mission?”

Skull shook his head, clutching the paper to his chest. “Nope!” He practically shouted, revelling in the hitman’s wince. “It’s a message for the great Skull-sama from his number one fan!”

“You have fans?” Reborn replied dubiously.

“The great Skull-sama has many fans.” Skull sniffed, turning away. “But none as great as Skull-sama’s number one fan.” He couldn’t help the grin that snuck across his face. “The great Skull-sama is going to go read his fan mail now!” He cheered as he stood up abruptly, his chair toppling behind him. Then he raced out of the room before Luce or Reborn could call him back.

He sat down at his desk and unrolled the parchment, taking in every detail, including the little cartoon skull doodled on the corner of the letter.

 

_Dear Skull,_ the letter began promisingly.

 

_I got a new job! I was a little bit bored because you wouldn’t tell me when your next show is. Anyway, it was kind of a mistake, since I didn’t apply for the position, and they picked me up off the street very suddenly, but I did such a good job that they hired me right away! I even got my first paycheque! I’ve never gotten one before! It’s all very exciting. I think my employers are rich, since they live in a mansion, and own many fancy cars. They even got me my very own cell phone so that they can call me whenever they need, and they promised overtime if I ever have to travel._

_So now we are both employed! Of course I wish I could be there working with you, but I know how you like your independence. But now I’ll be nice and busy and I won’t get bored. I know you hate it when I get bored._

_Anyway, I start my training bright and early tomorrow, and I need to dig out and steam my suit (my uniform is a suit, can you believe it?). I hope you aren’t working too hard, and don’t forget that I’ll always be here if you need anything at all._

 

_With all my love,_

 

_Your number one fan, Harry!_

 

_P.S. I’ve included my new phone number below. Call me anytime!~_

 

Skull stared with growing horror at the letter. Harry got a job. Harry was bored, and got a job. Harry got picked up off the street ( _kidnapped_ , his mind supplied) by some rich rando’ and driven to his new job. Oh god. He got picked up. What if - what if Harry’s boss is a pimp? Skull whimpered, his hands tugging at his hair. A bored Harry was never a good thing. But _this_?

He reached for his cell phone with trembling hands and dialled Harry’s new number.

The phone rang twice, before a wonderfully familiar voice answered.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice sounded normal - well, as normal as he could be. That was good.

“Harry!” Skull yelled. “You’re not supposed to get into cars with strangers! We talked about this!”

“Skull!” Harry suddenly sounded so happy. “I missed hearing your voice! You never answer your mirror anymore. I was worried.”

“Don’t change the subject, Harry.” Skull growled and Harry gave a nervous chuckle.

“Now now, Skull, I’m perfectly alright-“

“Alright? _Alright_? You were _kidnapped_ and forced to do _god knows what_ -“ Skull shrieked into his phone.

“Ah, yes, well,” Harry’s voice drifted further away from the phone.

“Harry.”

“Aren’t you proud of me, Skull?” Harry was whining now, “I’ve been employed for a full week! I passed my training and everything!”

“A week? Your letter said you got employed yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, I - um, forgot to send the letter right away…”

“ _Harry_.”

“But my job’s great! My boss is a bit formal, but my coworkers are all so nice! They all went easy on me so I’m not too sore. It’s been a while since I was involved in such physical work.” Harry chuckled. “But they drive me to so many different places - it’s very exciting!”

“Harry…” Skull’s voice was pained. “You - you know you can always say no, right?”

“Of course I know, Skull don’t be silly. But it would be a shame to waste my youthful years idling around doing nothing!”

“Harry,” Skull tried again. “Does - does anyone touch you… in uncomfortable places?” His knuckles were white where they clenched around his phone. He was part of the Mafia now, so if he needed to, he could kill anyone who touched Harry. Anyone who even _looked_ at Harry the wrong way. He was already a criminal, so it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch-

“Skull…” Harry said carefully, recapturing Skull’s attention. “You know I don’t like anyone encroaching my space when I clean. God knows how many times I’ve kicked you out of the house for a proper spring cleaning.”

“Cleaning?” Skull felt himself go limp with relief.

“Of course cleaning! Didn’t I tell you?” Harry sounded puzzled. “Well, anyway, my boss said that with just a little bit more field experience, I could become head housekeeper! Ah, I’m so honoured.”

“That’s… that’s great, Harry.”

“Isn’t it? I’m already the best at cleaning, but I got to learn how to take care of the Family’s horses too! They have so many of them. They’re such beautiful creatures. Not as smart as Thestrals, but - “

Wait - “Family? Horses?” Black suits? Fancy cars?

“Mhmm, such a lovely Family. Everyone’s so loyal and kind. I think I got really lucky this time, Skull. It’s a little bit chaotic and they do like to wave guns around a lot, but really, I feel like I fit right in.”

“Harry… about this Family…”

“Yes, Skull?” Harry paused as someone spoke in the background. “Sorry Skull, my break’s over. The next job’s a big one so I might not be able to answer my phone for a while. Don’t worry though, I’ll talk to you soon!”

“But-“

“Don’t work too hard, ‘kay Skull? And don’t worry, your dear old Harry can take care of himself. Bye!” There was a click and Harry was gone.

Skull stared at his phone. Th-there was no way, right? Of course not. There was no way Harry had been dragged into the Mafia. Ha, what a silly idea. Skull shook his head. No way. No way at all. And he’d make sure it stayed that way - his poor Harry was far too kind and innocent for this kind of life.

Behind him a gun clicked and Skull jumped up and around, shrieking as he saw six pairs of curious eyes staring at him.

“Lackey,” Reborn’s voice was dangerously soft. “Who’s this ‘Harry’?”

Skull whimpered as he contemplated jumping out the window.


	3. We are open all week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I swear my mom sends me paragraphs of heart emojis. Also, Skull has his typical teenager moments.
> 
> This story has no pairings.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Still open to prompts.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Harry’s Housekeeping**

**Chapter Three**

Skull sighed in relief as he shut the pantry door behind him. It was shortly after dinner and the others had retreated either to their rooms or to the common area. No one would think to check here.

It wasn’t that he really minded their company. They were an odd bunch, but they were dedicated and passionate and Skull respected that.

They were also insanely curious about all things civilian, which meant that Skull bore the brunt of their scrutiny. And while Skull didn’t mind explaining how most people didn’t live life fighting for their lives, he was not about to share anything about his Number One Fan. No, no, Harry was far to kind for these people. He’d probably try to feed them or something, and then they’d get addicted to his food, and they’d probably stalk him and - no. No way. There was no way Skull would allow them to corrupt his poor Harry.

Logically, Skull knew that Harry was strong. He had defeated Voldemort, after all. But that had been a long time ago, and when Skull had asked him whether he missed the action, Harry had told him that fighting was not something he ever wanted Skull to have to worry about.

Skull still wasn’t completely sure what Harry had meant, but he knew that his godfather would be upset if he knew that Skull had been roped into the Mafia, so he kept silent about it. The less Harry knew, the better.

He pulled out his phone and pressed the first key, smiling slightly as it automatically dialled his favourite number.

“ _Hello?_ ” Ah, the soothing voice of his Number One Fan.

“Harry!” He greeted cheerfully.

“ _Skull!_ ” Harry’s voice took on a distinctly warmer tone. “ _I was wondering when you’d call. You used to call me every day._ ” Harry was definitely pouting.

“Ah, I’ve been busy with work,” Skull said apologetically. “I didn’t have the chance to call.”

“ _It’s okay, Skull, I’m just teasing. I know you’re busy. I just want to make sure you’re safe._ ”

“Of course I’m safe! It takes more than work to bring down the great Skull-sama!” He declared passionately, not liking the worry he could hear in Harry’s voice.

“ _Take you down? You’re not doing anything dangerous, are you?_ ” Harry was probably frowning, and if Skull didn’t ease his worry, he’d probably start pacing too.

“Ah, no! No of course not!” He laughed a tad nervously. “Nothing dangerous. Just… tiring, is all.”

“ _Oh, good. I was worried for a moment there,_ ” Harry sighed into the phone. “ _I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you._ ”

Skull felt a surge of guilt. “I promise to always be careful, Harry,” he said solemnly. He didn’t _like_ lying to Harry, but he would do anything to keep his godfather safe. “Besides, I’m pretty durable. Remember that time we ran into the bear?”

Harry groaned. “ _I think you took ten years off my life_ ,” he said. “ _I got four new white hairs that day._ ”

“It’s my job to keep you on your toes,” Skull replied cheekily.

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry replied dryly. “ _You’re very good at that._ ”

“So,” Skull said, “Are you keeping yourself out of trouble too?” Because Skull was sure that Harry attracted more trouble than Skull did. Most of their - er, adventures - with wild animals had been Harry’s fault, after all.

“ _Of course!_ ” Harry replied almost indignantly. “ _Work has been keeping me busy too._ ”

“You haven’t been working too hard, having you?” Skull asked suspiciously. Harry had a tendency to get carried away when it came to his tasks.

“ _No, no, I get weekends off, unless I have to travel._ ”

“And how clean is the house?” Asked Skull, well aware of Harry’s coping mechanisms.

“ _Ah, well, quite nice and shiny_.” Harry was probably fidgeting.

“Mhmm,” Skull narrowed his eyes.

“ _Well, Luna and Rolf have been away for a little while… but they’ll be back soon! Any day now, really…_ ”

“Have you at least seen Aunty Hermione and Uncle Ron recently? Or Uncle Neville?”

“ _Well…_ ”

“So you spend all your time… alone…”

“ _Well…_ ” Harry repeated nervously.

Skull sighed. “Harry, you need more friends.”

Harry sputtered. “ _I have plenty of friends!_ ”

“Yeah, back in England. You rarely even see them anymore now that Aunty Hermione is pregnant. Come on, Harry, even _I_ have more friends than you do.” And he did. He met up with his circus friends almost every weekend, and spent a surprising amount of time with the rest of the Arcobaleno. He had more friends than he’d ever had before in his life.

Harry was grumbling on the other end of the line. “ _I’ll try,_ ” he said reluctantly.

Skull beamed. “Great!” And it was. Because Harry didn’t really care about most people, so he never really made an effort to get to know them. But Skull was sure that Harry could do a great job if he put his mind to it. It wasn’t that Skull didn’t understand - he more than understood. They were very much the same in that regard. They were fiercely protective of their friends and family, and did not tend to reach out beyond that circle. Still, Skull was aware that it was not exactly the healthiest way to live for someone in Harry’s position. Skull and Luna had agreed a while ago to keep an eye on Harry, since he was rather oblivious to his own wellbeing.

“ _I’d better go,_ ” said Harry. “ _Work starts so early,_ ” he sighed.

“I’ll call you again soon.” he said, hanging up only after Harry told him just how much he loved his godson in an overly sappy voice that had Skull rolling his eyes. Just because Harry looked young didn’t mean he had to act young. Honestly.

He peeked out and, seeing no one, left the pantry. Hearing murmured voices, he wound his way to the common area to find a few of his - coworkers? Fellow mafiosi? - gathered around the fireplace. Verde was reading an overly large text, Fon was drinking tea, and Reborn was chatting with Luce.

Skull’s phone _pinged_ and he glanced down. It was a text from Harry. He opened it to see a smiley face and a heart emoticon. Ugh, how embarrassing. Shaking his head he closed his phone just as Reborn looked up. He cursed as the man smirked.

“Talking with _Harry_ again?” The man asked.

Skull scowled, flushing slightly at the innuendo. When he’d refused to tell them anything about Harry, they had all decided to instead come to their own conclusions. Reborn thought that Harry was his secret lover, and had gone to great lengths to publicly reassure him that there was nothing wrong with loving another man. Skull _knew_ that, of course, but just because he was a pretty boy didn’t mean that he was gay. To be honest, he hadn’t actually fully figured out his sexuality, but - argh! That was beside the point! And now Reborn was leering at him, Verde had yet to look up at him, and Luce was staring at him knowingly.

Skull groaned. At least Lal had just scolded him about security breaches and Fon had recommend foods that would win over any man - or woman’s - stomach, and thus their heart.

“It’s not like that,” he grumbled uselessly, scowling as Luce giggled at his plight. She probably knew, and was enjoying his pain. Damn seers. He’d never actually met one before Luce, but Harry had complained enough about them that he had inherited his godfather’s wariness.

“Don’t worry, Lackey, I’m sure your dear Harry won’t care how weak you are, as long as you’re pretty.”

_Reborn, you ass_. Skull wanted to wipe that damn smirk right off his face. Skull widened his eyes as he stared at the hitman. “Reborn-senpai, you… think I’m pretty?”

Reborn froze.

Verde paused mid-page turn.

Luce raised a hand to her lips.

Fon laughed.

_Click._

“Ah, Reborn-senpai, I’m sorry, but you’re not my type - “

_Bang._

Skull ducked with a squeak. Then he ran, a smirk crossing his face as he sped down the hall, using his enhanced speed to dart out of sight. Served Reborn right, the damn bastard.

—

“Good morning, Harry!” Maria greeted cheerfully when he stepped through the doors into the staff room. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down one of the hallways. “It’s time for your work evaluation.”

Harry blinked. “Evaluation?” He said as he was dragged behind her. “Alright.”

Maria sighed. “You’re supposed to get nervous,” she complained. “That’s what everyone else does. Well,” she said thoughtfully, “Grumpy Luca just scowls extra hard, but you know.” She flapped her free hand absently.

“Oh,” Harry said, tilting his head. “Sorry, I’ll do better next time.”

“Please do,” Maria nodded. “Otherwise I feel like I’m failing at my job.”

“Your job at intimidating the newbies?”

Maria sniffed. “It’s important for them to remember their place. Otherwise they get all hotheaded and end up shooting off their guns in front of civilians like untrained hooligans.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded understandingly. They risked bringing the Vindice down upon them if they went too far. And that was not any fun for anyone. Harry had yet to meet the Vindice, but he’d heard the rumours, and he’d be happy to stay far, far away from them.

“Marco!” Maria beamed as she entered his office. “Harry gets a top score for punctuality. Not a single day late.”

“Oh?” Marco looked up from his desk, then ruffled through a drawer for a folder. He plopped it down and withdrew a sheet. From Harry’s spot in front of the desk he could see his photo and information but was not surprised that they kept a file on him. They probably did for everyone. It was a little creepy, but it made sense, really.

Harry sat down in the chair next to Maria and rested his hands in his laps.

Marco began to fill in the sheet. “Very good, very good,” he said as he wrote. “Top score for cleaning, too.”

Harry tried not to feel too proud.

“Top score for etiquette,” Maria added. “Very polite, this one.”

Marco nodded seriously, his pen moving impressively fast. “Fitting in well, yes, very good.”

“Ah! And good initiative. Offered to take Grumpy Luca’s shift when he caught a cold and had to leave early.”

Harry shifted slightly, not too sure why they were impressed with that, but felt pleased nonetheless.

“Hmm, yes, overall a good score so far. But…”

Harry frowned slightly. What had he missed?

Maria’s expression turning serious. “Yes,” she agreed. “Sociability…” She tapped her finger on her thigh. “A fail.”

Harry blinked.

Marco nodded.

“Sociability…” Harry said dubiously as he looked between them. “I was not aware that it was a necessary aspect of my job…”

Marco leaned back in his chair, his pen pausing over the paper. “It is,” he said. “In fact, it’s very important.”

Harry frowned. He was polite with his coworkers. He was never rude, and he treated them with respect. He was not sure what else they wanted him to do.

“Harry,” Marco put down his pen and clasped his hands in front of him. “When you took this job, you also became part of the Famiglia. We are a Family. We are a unit. Without unity between us, there is no Famiglia.”

Family. Harry’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart beat just a little stronger.

“You fit in well,” Maria said. “There’s no friction or tension with others. That’s good. But… you don’t see yourself as one of us, do you?”

Harry looked away, not too sure why he felt a flash of guilt. He rarely felt guilt these days.

“I know that all of this is new to you. We don’t usually hire civilians. Quite the mixup, there.” Marco said, a tinge of knowing humour to his voice. They knew, but they had done nothing. They had accepted him anyway. “Which is why you’re here now. You’re a good worker, Harry. One of the best, really. But for us to be strong, we need every member to be a true part of the Family. It’s what makes us successful.”

Unity. Family. Harry lowered his eyes. It sounded… nice. But to become part of the Family… that meant that one day they would be gone, and he would be left behind. Alone.

“So,” Maria clapped her hands. “We want you to attend the next Family picnic!”

Harry looked up in surprise. He’d avoided all of the previous ones, and hadn’t thought that his absence had been noted. Surely they hadn’t missed him.

“Just for a bit. Give it a chance.” _Give us a chance_.

Harry found himself nodding before he even realized it. Because he could pretend, but he could not lie to himself. He wanted to be part of the Family. He was just… scared.

“Wonderful!” She passed him his invitation. “You get to bring some dessert. Now, shoo. You’re on horse duty this week.” She gave him a little wave as he stood and nodded to them both before leaving.

Family. For a moment he felt warm. What a beautiful thought.

—

‘Company picnic’, Maria had joked every time she reminded him of the upcoming event. He had thought briefly about pretending to be sick, but in the end he had decided to go. Luna had beamed in pride when he told her about it. “I’d been worried about you,” she’d told him, hugging him to soften her words. “Hiding yourself away is not healthy.”

He couldn’t deny her earnest looks. Not to mention the way Skull kept scolding him.

So, Harry packed a basket full of homemade fruit tarts. He secured the cloth over top, activated the preservation charm, and picked it up along with his jacket and helmet. Though he didn’t have Sirius’ old bike anymore, he couldn’t give up riding. It was the closest he could get to a broom among muggles. Besides, he wouldn’t be Skull’s Number One Fan if he didn’t at least have a motorbike to ride.

He arrived at the park only half an hour late, and was relieved to see that he was neither the first, nor the last to arrive.

“Good morning,” he greeted politely as he approached Marco and Maria who were idling by the table already laden with food. “I brought tarts.” He held the basket out for Maria to take.

She grinned. “Had a feeling you would.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Marco admitted, offering Harry an empty plate.

Harry rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “My friends are… persuasive.”

Marco eyed him skeptically. “You have friends?”

Harry scowled and Maria laughed.

“Oh, these smell delicious,” she said as she lifted the cloth from his basket. “And they’re still warm.” She delighted.

“The basket is insulated,” Harry lied. He filled his plate with food and a couple of his own tarts before spreading his blanket under one of the trees. He was soon joined by the other two and, to his surprise, Grumpy Luca.

Half an hour of idle chit-chat later, they were surrounded by most of his fellow staff. Harry leaned back against the base of the tree, nibbling on the first of his two tarts.

He blinked in surprise as Luca held out a fresh cup of tea for him and accepted it with a nod of thanks. Two sugars and a dash of cream. Just the way he liked it. He cocked his head as he studied the scowling man. He hadn’t realized that Luca had noticed his habits.

“Oh, the last tart,” Maria said, eyeing Harry’s plate enviously. “You going to eat that?” She asked with wide, pleading eyes.

“Ah, actually it’s for Luca,” Harry said apologetically. “He brought me tea, so…”

Maria sighed as she watched Harry hand the plate over to the quiet man. She waited until the plate was placed on the ground before darting forward quickly, hoping to catch Luca off guard.

But Luca was faster. With a light slap, he knocked her hand aside and snatched up the tart, stuffing it into his mouth in one bite, glaring all the while. Maria gaped, mouth dropping at his uncharacteristic motions.

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed. A tension he hadn’t realized slowly drained from his shoulders. He didn’t notice as they looked at him in slight surprise. He had never laughed in front of them before.

“If I’d known they would disappear so quickly, I would have made more,” He smiled.

Maria recovered first. “Next time, then,” she said. “You’d better.”

Harry blinked then nodded, “I will,” he agreed, his smile lingering, finally reaching his eyes.


	4. We do house calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a sucker for a badass Harry

**Harry’s Housekeeping**

 

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing.

**Chapter Four**

When Harry woke up, he knew it was going to be a bad day. He was tired, grumpy, and he missed his godson. Still, he had to get up and go to work. He wasn’t actually sick, so he had no reason to stay home in bed all day, even if that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Not that he could complain about his job. He’d been all over Italy, and even to a few places in France and Germany over the past few months. He was often given a day or two to explore once he finished his clean up, which meant he got to pick up souvenirs and explore new cities. While he had travelled a lot with Skull already, they had tended to stick to smaller towns and spent most of their time exploring the mountains and forests, where it was peaceful and free of expectations.

And he… enjoyed spending time with his coworkers. Despite his best efforts, he had grown… fond of them. He’d gotten used to seeing them practically every day. Had grown used to their company.

Today found him ushered into the car the moment he got to work.

“Messy one today, I’m afraid,” his boss, Marco, said apologetically. “Bunch of higher-ups from one of our rivals. The hit happened sooner than planned, though. Was supposed to happen this afternoon, but our hitman got a little impatient.” He shrugged. “Not a big deal, really, but it’s been a few hours already, so…”

Harry sighed. “Carpet?” He asked.

“Carpet,” Marco confirmed sympathetically.

“Great,” he muttered. “Gunshots?”

“Ah… throats slit…” Marco shifted and glanced away.

Harry scowled. “Of course. Let them bleed out everywhere too, I’m sure,” he grouched. “No respect for those of us who clean up their damn messes. Hasn’t anyone heard of a simple broken neck? No mess at all!” He crossed his arms and huffed.

Marco remained diplomatically silent for the rest of the drive.

“Meeting Room Four.” He was told when they arrived at the ranch. They split up as usual. Marco removed any traces from the property, and Harry cleaned up inside.

He could smell the blood before he even opened the door. His first step inside crunched through dried blood. The bodies were strewn all over, blood splattered on just about every surface of the room. Harry sighed. He should probably ask for a raise.

He unfolded a thin metal box and set it on the floor. One by one he stuffed the bodies inside before incinerating them. Scrubbing the walls and ceiling took a while, and the carpet took even longer, even with his magic to speed the process along.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he finished, and he stood up with a sigh, stretching his sore back. He was about to put away his supplies when he heard muffled shouting. Thumps sounded in the hallway, but before he could check to see what was going on, the windows crashed in and suddenly he was diving out of the way, dodging knife swipes and bullets.

He cursed as he dove beneath the table. He had mere seconds to decide what to do. Kill or flee. But the others were already fighting, and Harry wasn’t sure if they were winning or losing.

Harry sighed. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what he was going to do.

His form wavered, and then he was moving, launching himself at the nearest hitman. He reached up, wrapped his arms around the man’s head, and jerked his arms. _Snap_. He let the body fall. One down.

The second one was faster, and Harry had to dodge a glinting blade. He cursed as the blade slashed through his shirt, leaving a red gash on his chest. He was getting rusty. His body knew how to move, knew how to survive, but years of peace had left him… soft.

His foot lashed out and he kicked the man in the sternum - hard enough to crack bones. The third man had a gun. Harry jerked to the side and a bullet grazed his cheek. Harry growled in annoyance. He grabbed a pen from the table and chucked it at the assassin with surprising accuracy and speed. The man dodged and Harry took advantage of the opening, forcing his protesting muscles to _move_ , striking upwards, and cracking the man’s neck. The body crumpled. The last man was the fastest. His sword swished close - too close - and Harry jumped back. He bumped into the wall and suddenly had nowhere to go. _Shit_. He had misjudged.

The sword descended and he grabbed the closest thing he could find - the handled brush. It cracked easily under the blade, but allowed Harry to roll to the side. He snapped the wooden handle the rest of the way, and was left with two sharp ends.

He dodged, ducked, spun, and - _there_. There was a flash of purple flame and then he struck. The brush blocked the blade. His other hand launched up, shoving the broken end into the man’s eye. The man crumpled, screaming. The door burst open just as Harry stomped down, driving the spike into the assassin’s head.

He stared at the spreading blood with growing ire, his muscles trembling and head still thundering with adrenaline.

He had _just_ finished cleaning. And half the mess was his own fault, too. He heaved a put-upon sigh, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He really should have just stayed in bed.

—

“So,” Marco said with a grin.

“Not gonna happen,” Harry said flatly.

“You’re good at it though. Four guys in just a few minutes? Takes skill.”

“If they’d worked together it would have been a different story. I got lucky.”

“Did you?”

Harry was silent.

“The Famiglia could use talent like yours, you know. Not that I’d enjoy losing my best cleaner, but…”

“I learned out of necessity. I don’t intend to make a job out of it.”

Marco watched him silently for a while. “Very well. The Ninth will be informed of your skills, as is his right,” he said with a warning glance when Harry opened his mouth to protest. “But I will inform him of your desire to maintain your current position.”

Harry nodded, lips pursed. The Ninth was fair, so he would wait and see. But if they tried to push him, he would run, and they would never find him. Still, he did not wish to. He’d done enough running. He had, slowly but surely, grown to care for his odd, trigger-happy family. So he would wait, and he would have faith.

—

Harry met the Ninth a week later. He bowed before sitting in the proffered chair, Marco’s assuring hand resting on his shoulder before he too took his seat at the desk across from the Chiavarone boss.

“I have heard much about you, Harry, our very best housekeeper.” Nono started, hands folded in front of him. The man’s eyes were sharp and calculating, but not cold. “When you finish your job, no traces remain. Not a hair, not a drop of blood, not a single speck of dust. Nothing that can be traced back to us. Nothing that can be used against us. You have kept many enemies off of our back through your work. For this, I am grateful.”

Harry bowed his head. “It is my job,” he demurred, not yet willing to speak freely. He liked Chiavarone Nono. He respected him and his efforts to maintain the integrity and future of the Famiglia, even as they faced a slow decline in finances.

“You took out four assassins within the span of a few minutes. Assassins who would have killed everyone in the building in an attempt to harm us. Assassins who would have then stolen valuable information that would have put us at a severe disadvantage had they succeeded.” Nono paused for a moment, assessing Harry. “We set a trap for them, and they, in turn, set a trap for us. It was our luck that we struck first and that you acted as you did.”

Harry frowned slightly, then glanced at Marco. “I was not the only one who acted.” It was possible that the assassins would have managed to kill the others, but then again it was possible that they would have still been defeated. Harry was not so convinced that he had been crucial to their defeat, but he was nonetheless glad that Marco had not been harmed.

Nono nodded. “It is his job to deal with trouble that arises. He has been trained.” He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “You are wasted as a mere housekeeper. It is my wish to see you thrive.”

“I do thrive. I take pride in my work. I am the best.” Harry’s lips quirked. “You said so yourself.”

Nono inclined his head.

“I have fought,” Harry acknowledged as he continued, “and I have won. But I have put it behind me. That is no longer who I am. Now…” He shrugged. “I’m just Harry.”

“I have a hard time believing,” Nono said, “that you have ever been ‘Just Harry.’”

Harry looked away.

“I understand your position,” said Nono, and for some odd reason, Harry believed him. The man looked tired. “Not everyone wishes to fight. But in our world it is inescapable. It was built into our very foundation.” He leaned back in his chair and was silent for a moment. “Would you not fight to protect your family?”

Harry closed his eyes. Of course he would. He would always fight if it meant protecting those he cared about. He would fight, and Nono knew it. He silently cursed the man for being so astute.

He turned back to face Nono, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I think you know the answer to that,” he replied.

“I will not push you. It is not my intention to drive you away. But it is my hope that when the occasion arises we will be able to rely on you to act.”

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement. For all that he wanted to resent the man, he couldn’t help but respect him instead. Nono had balanced his demands with generous concessions. He could have commanded Harry, but Nono was smart enough to see that it would only have weakened Harry’s loyalty - possibly even made him run. Instead, Harry thought bemusedly as he shook hands with the Chiavarone Don, he doubted he would leave until the very end.


	5. We are fully booked for the next month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping back in time for a little bit of backstory. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Harry’s Housekeeping**

**Chapter Five**

“I have to go, Teddy. But I’ll be back before you know it!” Harry gathered his godson into his arms. Small arms curled around his neck.

“I don’t want you to go. I don’t like it when you’re not here.” Teddy sniffled, his hands curling into Harry’s hair.

“You’ll be off having so many wonderful adventures with Aunty Luna and Uncle Rolf that you won’t even notice that I’m gone!”

Teddy shook his head and tried not to cry. He knew that Harry wasn’t actually his daddy, but Harry had raised him for as long as he could remember. And Harry was… Harry was _there_. He loved hearing stories about his parents, but it didn’t hurt as much not having them because he had Harry. And now Harry had to go.

“Teddy,” Harry said softly, sadly. Teddy trembled as he tried so very hard not to cry. Still, tears began to soak into Harry’s shirt. “Teddy, my love, I’ll be back. I promise.”

Teddy couldn’t reply between his sobs, and Harry began to hum. He loved it when Harry sang, because his singing was magical. It made Teddy feel warm and loved. It made the wind blow and water dance. It made fire burn bright and trees grow tall. Because Harry didn’t need a wand to perform magic. Harry _was_ magic. Slowly, Teddy calmed, and felt his eyelids droop. Warm, sleepy, and loved. “Don’ go,” he muttered as he slowly drifted off, and Harry kissed his forehead, his song a little sad.

Teddy woke to familiar humming, but it wasn’t Harry. He liked Luna’s humming, though he preferred Harry’s. Harry said that Luna taught him how to hum, but seemed pleased when Teddy told him, nonetheless.

“Where’s Harry?” He asked as he turned to look at Aunty Luna.

She smiled at him warmly. “He’ll be back,” she promised.

Teddy wanted to cry again, but he was a big boy now. At six years old he shouldn’t be crying so much, even if Harry said it was okay to cry whenever he needed to.

The time Teddy spent with Aunty Luna and Uncle Rolf was amazing. They loved to travel as much as he did, and they rarely went into town, which suited Teddy perfectly. He preferred to go off exploring the wild forests. Because Teddy liked _his_ people, but he didn’t care much for anyone else.

Still, he missed Harry. Every morning he would look to the sky, hoping to see Mort descending with a letter from Harry, and would then inevitably sigh in disappointment when no Raven or letter showed.

It was almost a month later when Aunty Luna finally perked up and cheerfully announced that they would be bringing Teddy home. They were packed and ready to go within minutes.

And then he was home, and Harry’s magic wrapped around him in song.

He raced around the small cottage to the back porch and paused as he took in Harry. His Harry.

But Teddy felt a slight flicker of fear as he looked upon his guardian. Harry was standing there, still as death with eyes deep as the universe. If not for Harry’s hair moving in the wind, Teddy would have thought him to be just an illusion. Because for a moment, he seemed to… flicker, his form turning translucent, almost ghostlike.

“Harry!” He cried and he raced forward. He needed to be able to touch Harry. To hold him and make sure he couldn’t go anywhere. To keep him _here_ with Teddy, where he belonged.

Harry started, turning to stare at his Godson, brows furrowed in confusion for a moment. Then his expression cleared and he smiled. He knelt, and gathered Teddy in his arms, holding him in a painfully tight embrace. “Teddy,” he murmured. “I’m home.” And all around him, Harry’s magic sang.

That night, Teddy crawled out of bed as quietly as he could. He had woken up with the fear that Harry had left again, so he had to make sure that his godfather was still there.

He padded down the hall, pausing as he heard voices coming from the living room. He sighed in relief as he recognized Harry’s soothing tones.

“ - Harder this time. I… I lose a little bit of myself each time.” Harry sounded tired and… old.

“Harry…” Luna’s voice shook slightly. “How long?”

There was a period of silence. Teddy wasn’t sure what exactly Harry meant. Harry had both legs, both arms, and all his fingers. His hair was long as always, and he still had his nose, ears, eyes, and mouth. Teddy didn’t understand.

“Time passes differently there. I couldn’t tell if I’d been gone for a few minutes or a few years. I do not entirely retain my… human mind when I am there. I couldn’t. I would go insane. It is… difficult sometimes to remember who I am at all. It is only my ties here that bring me back.”

Teddy hated what he was hearing. Even if he didn’t understand it yet, he hated it. He did his very best not to cry.

“One day…” Harry’s voice was almost breathless, as if unaware that he was even speaking. “One day, when all ties are gone, I will not return to this world.”

“Then… you will never rest.” Rolf said in that deep rumbling voice of his.

“A cursed existence.” Luna sounded so very sad.

“It is my fate. As the last descendent. As one who has walked away from Death twice.” Harry laughed, and it was a chilling sound. “So now I am bound to Death forevermore.”

Teddy _hated_ what he was hearing. Harry was _his_. He didn’t want Harry to go _anywhere_. He burst into loud tears and launched himself into the room and at Harry, who looked surprised even as he caught him.

Then Harry’s face crumpled. “Oh, Teddy,” he whispered and buried his face in Teddy’s shoulder. And Harry - his strong, brave, wonderful Harry - cried.

—

Teddy was especially clingy for the next few months, never letting Harry out of his sight for long. But he was young, and his mind eventually moved on, though he did not truly forget. The severity of reality faded, since he had never truly understood it in the first place.

The next time Harry left, Teddy was about to turn fifteen. Teddy ranted and raved as only a teenager could, though he was not quite sure why he was so upset - it was not the first time he’d spent time away from Harry, after all. He’d gone on many trips without his godfather. But this time felt _different_. It felt _wrong_ , though he could not quite figure out why.

“Teddy,” Harry sighed in a familiar, worn way.

“No! It’s not fair! It’s my birthday and you _promised_ you’d take me on a trip - just the two of us!”

“I’m sorry Teddy. I’m really sorry. I can’t - I don’t have any choice. I held it off as long as I could. But - wkje’ll go when I get back. Just us. Like I promised.”

“You _promised_ we’d go on my birthday.” Teddy scowled, so very angry that Harry was going somewhere Teddy could not follow. Because if something happened to Harry, Teddy couldn’t be there to protect him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Harry, who normally smiled and made all his problems disappear, looked defeated. And Teddy _hated_ seeing Harry like this. And he hated that there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop Harry from leaving, and he had never felt so helpless before.

Feeling tears prick at his yes, he turned and stormed away, ignoring the way Harry tried to call him back. He couldn’t be here right now. He grabbed his backpack, packed his essentials, and snuck into the garage. He donned his biking gear - gear that Harry had had specially commissioned for him - and mounted Sirius’ old bike. The bike that he and Harry always used for their travels. The bike that Harry had spent countless hours tinkering with, teaching Teddy how to repair, all the while recounting stories of both of their fathers and the Marauders.

The bike roared to live under his hands and he sped off. He glanced back only once.

Harry stood in the window, watching him sadly.

—

Teddy returned two months later. Harry was still gone, but Luna was waiting for him with a calm smile.

“Will you stay?” She asked as she poured him some tea. There was no judgment in her eyes, and Skull was eternally grateful.

“You’re not mad?” He asks. He’s sure she already knows the answer to her question.

“Harry was worse at your age,” She replied.

Teddy was silent for a moment. “Is Harry mad?” He asked quietly, unable to look his aunt in the eye.

“Harry understands. He loves you, Teddy. He loves you very much.”

“Then why isn’t he here,” Teddy asks petulantly, knowing his question was not fair.

“We always knew exactly where you were,” Luna says instead. “Harry made sure of that. We will always be here for you, Teddy. Whenever you need us.” She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be back. He loves you.”

Teddy left again, joined a roaming circus, and learned to be a stunt rider. He wanted to defy Death. Because maybe, just maybe, if he caught Death’s attention, Harry would return.


	6. I'll just need a moment to check our calendar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uuuh it probably takes longer than a month to become a stunt rider but… oh well.
> 
>  
> 
> Back story part II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Harry’s Housekeeping**

**Chapter 6**

Harry opened his eyes slowly, staring at his small home with a distant kind of expression. His gaze slid over the familiar setting, taking in the flowers that were now blooming. How long had he been gone? Weeks? Months?

The chimes that Teddy had made clinked cheerfully, if a little off-tune.

Teddy.

His godson.

He raised a hand and placed it over his heart, waiting for his form to properly solidify. Waiting for the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. Waiting for proof of his humanity.

Teddy.

His godson.

He loved his godson. He loved his family. Luna and Rolf. The Weasleys.

Harry took a shuddering breath. The air smelled sweet. Like lilies and green grass and dirt.

Then the door opened and Luna was there, her silvery blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, a necklace of sea glass clinking gently as she approached him.

She reached out with a hand, and gently cupped his cheek. He could feel her warmth upon his skin. It chased away the cold, and slowly, slowly, he felt his eyes clear, the abyssal depths fading into a desperate green.

“Welcome home, Harry,” she said.

His eyes closed and he leaned into her. “I’m home,” he said in a whisper of breath. “I’m home.”

—

Harry watched Teddy’s stunts for the first time with his hands clenched tightly around the armrests of his chair. He knew that Teddy was quite safe. The bike was layered in charms upon charms, and Teddy had both magic and enhanced strength to keep him alive.

But he couldn’t help the way his heart hammered in fear with each flip. Each death-defying stunt. Honestly, the only time he _felt_ so much was when Teddy was around.

Teddy, his dear godson, who had finished his performance and was now surrounded by fans who all wanted a photo with him and an autograph. And dear, sweet Teddy did not deny them. He put his arm around each and every one, a cheeky grin in place as the cameras flashed in his face.

Harry stood and wandered from the large tent. It had been so very long since he had seen Teddy - or was it short? It was hard to tell, sometimes. Still, he could wait. Teddy had started building a life for himself outside of Harry’s home. It made his heart clench in an unfamiliar way, and yet it filled him with such pride. Teddy was his child in all but blood, and he loved his godson. So he would wait. He would not ruin what Teddy had begun to create.

The circus was fairly large, especially for one that roamed so frequently across Europe. The tents were large and the stalls ornate. A wonderland for children, yet impressive enough to draw in the wealthy.

Harry bought a doughnut and tipped the seller. He paused to watch a clown’s performance, and stopped to allow a young lady to paint his nails when she stared at him with large, pleading eyes.

Glancing down at his hands, he was pleased to see that they were a vibrant, sparkly purple. Teddy’s colour.

Teddy’s van was easy to find. It was bright purple and had his magical signature all over it. Harry waited inside while his godson finished dealing with his fans. It was quite muggle inside, though Harry could see a few traces of his wizarding heritage in discreet locations, safe from prying, muggle eyes. He could sense a few muggle-repelling charms as well, and was satisfied that his godson had not been careless.

He heard humming and footsteps before the door opened and then Teddy was there, eyes widening as he saw Harry lounging in his kitchenette, a cup of tea half-drunk on the table next to him.

“It worked,” Teddy breathed.

Harry cocked his head curiously.

Then Teddy surged forward and swept Harry up in a tight embrace. “Harry,” the teen said, face buried in his guardian’s shoulder.

“I’m home, Teddy,” Harry smiled, running a gentle had through Teddy’s bright locks.

His godson stepped back a moment later. “It’s Skull now,” he corrected with a grin that did not quite cover his anxiety.

Harry blinked. “Skull?” He tilted his head, studying the teen. Then he smiled. “It suits you.”

“Skull deMort,” Teddy admitted, eyes flicking away.

Harry’s mouth dropped for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed. “As cheeky as your mum,” he said with approval.

Skull smiled a little wistfully even as he preened under his godfather’s attention.

“Harry, I’m…” Skull started, a little nervously.

“Teddy - “

“ - Skull.”

“My baby,” Harry amended, enjoying his godson’s scowl. “I love you. You know that, right? No matter what. I love you, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Skull’s eyes turned green and his hair black and he ducked his head. “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry smiled at Skull’s flushed cheeks and drew him into another hug. “Now, want to tell me about your new job? Death defying stunts, hmm?” He said, tightening his grip when Skull tried to wriggle away. There was no way Skull was getting out of this.

—

Harry stared out at the setting sun, his brow lightly furrowed. He’d felt the odd fluctuations ever since he had returned. The feeling was unfamiliar but Harry still _knew_. Something was wrong. Something was off.

And Death was displeased.

Harry’s lips tugged downwards. He could feel the way Death’s hands constantly brushed his shoulders. The way his voice rattled in his ears, whispering his displeasure. His ire.

And he wanted Harry to fix it. To fix what should have been fixed centuries ago.

_All alone_ , Death crooned. _He lost his way_.

Who was it, though? What was it? Harry closed his eyes. He did not even know where to start. Time and time again he would reach out, trying to sense, trying to feel. But whatever it was eluded him. Because how could he find something when he didn’t even know what he was looking for?

_I will find it_ , Harry promised dutifully. _It will be fixed_.

He felt a hand card through his hair, tightening briefly, before vanishing.

Harry opened his eyes and watched the last of the sun’s rays disappear.

—

“We’ll be gone for a few months,” said Luna as she zipped up her backpack. She was dressed in her typical fashion with sturdy hiking boots, brightly coloured leggings covered in flapping snidgets, and the fuzziest fleece Harry had ever seen.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said.

“You can always visit Skull if you get bored,” Luna continued. “His circus friends are very nice.”

“I’m not going to get into any trouble.” Harry crossed his arms defensively.

“Remember: Say no to strangers who offer you puppies and free train rides.”

“Candy. They offer candy if you get in the van.”

Luna took both of his shoulders in her hands and stared him solemnly in the eye. “Don’t accept any strange muggle potions, Harry. Even if it’s free.”

Harry sighed. “Drugs, Luna. Muggles call them drugs.”


	7. Thank You For Your Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Skull...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Harry's Housekeeping**

**Chapter 7**

“You’ve been with us for over a year now,” Marco said thoughtfully as they pulled into the driveway of the Chiavarone mansion. “You’ve been a great asset. You’re invaluable to us, you know.”

Harry shifted, still not entirely comfortable with compliments.

“You’ve inspired the others, too. They work harder than ever, in fact. Half of them are in awe and hope to win your praise. The rest are too scared of your skills to step out of line.” Marco chuckled. “I haven’t had to chase after slackers in months.”

Harry blinked. The praise was… nice, if a little suspicious.

“I’ve been thinking - and Maria agreed - that it’s about time you were given the position you have earned.”

Harry stepped out of the car after Marco and stared hard at the man who grinned back unrepentantly.

“So, how about it… Manager Harry?”

Harry hummed. “No thanks.”

“Great,” Marco said, one of his large hands coming to rest on Harry’s head. His hand was warm, and rough callouses caught slightly on Harry’s hair. “Maria will be pleased. She’s been complaining about her workload.”

“I said no, Marco,” Harry reiterated.

“Of course, of course,” his boss nodded. “You’ll see your raise in your next cheque,” he continued. “You’ll share an office with Maria. A desk has been added for you. Details of your position are already waiting for you. Now, off you go. I’m afraid you’ll have a bit of catching up to do.” He said with a wave as he strode into the mansion.

Harry sighed. Still, he couldn’t help the way his lips twitched upwards. Just ever so slightly.

—

Skull cursed as he felt his phone buzz. He had a feeling he knew exactly who was calling him. He glanced at Verde who was fiddling with what looked like a remote control. The scientist looked up and shrugged uncaringly. Skull’s part in their mission was over anyway, and they were well hidden. Even if Skull decided to yell at the top of his lungs, it wouldn’t affect anything. Verde, after all, had a very strong sense of self-preservation.

“Hello?” Skull said finally as he placed the phone to his ear.

“ _Skull_!” Harry’s voice rang out cheerfully. “ _Are you busy? I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time_.”

“No, no,” Skull reassured, wincing as he heard a few shots ring out from down the street. “It’s fine,” he said weakly.

“ _Are you sure? It sounds a little noisy…_ ”

“Ah, no, that’s just… uh, my team mates are acting out a scene they saw in a movie recently…”

Harry was silent for a moment and Skull began to sweat.

“ _Oh, well, alright then._ ”

Skull let out a breath of relief. “And you, Harry? Are you okay?” Skull frowned, feeling suddenly concerned. “Is anything wrong?”

Harry laughed. “ _What, I can’t call and chat with my favourite godson?_ ”

“I’m your only godson.”

“ _And my favourite_.”

“Are you feeling lonely again, Harry?” Skull narrowed his eyes.

“ _What? No, actually I called you to tell you the good news!_ ”

“Oh? You have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Er… both?”

“ _Skull_!”

“What? I don’t judge!”

“ _I got a promotion, Skull_.” Harry sounded like he was smiling. Good.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Skull grinned. “I’m not surprised.”

“ _My Boss said that all the workers like me_ ,” Harry sounded almost shy and Skull wanted to squeal. His godfather was far too precious.

“I don’t think anyone could _not_ like you,” Skull said.

“ _Oh, I don’t know about - oh dear_ ,” Harry said, suddenly breaking off mid-sentence.

Skull frowned, leaning forward. “Harry?”

“ _Ah, sorry, I was just finishing up at work, but… it looks like I missed a spot._ ” Harry sounded a little distracted. There was a sound like a squeaky hinge. “ _A spider that thought it could evade my notice_.” There was something sinister about Harry’s tone, but Skull didn’t blame him. Harry had confided that he held a bit of a grudge against spiders ever since he had run into a colony of acromantula at Hogwarts. Luna liked to release spiders outside when she found them inside their home, but Harry would immediately squish them with a flat expression.

“You’d think they’d learn by now,” Skull said.

“ _You’d think_ ,” Harry hummed.

For a moment Skull thought he heard the sound of someone saying ‘no’ repeatedly and… crying? Skull wondered if Harry’s coworkers were deathly afraid of spiders just like Uncle Ron.

There was a thud, a squelch, a low gurgling, then silence. He heard Harry sigh.

“ _Sorry Skull, I thought I had finished the job and didn’t want it to get too late to call you._ ” There was a clattering sound and a loud thump as Harry moved what Skull assumed were his cleaning supplies. Skull really didn’t want to know how big this spider had been.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Skull assured. “I’m just glad you’re still enjoying your job.”

“ _Oh, yes, it definitely keeps me on my toes_.”

Skull didn’t really get why Harry found housekeeping so rewarding, but, well, he really was in no position to judge.

Next to Skull, Verde made a noise of satisfaction. He smiled and Skull shivered. Then Verde pressed a button. There was a moment of silence, then -

_Boom._

Skull cringed. The building two blocks down exploded.

“ _Skull? Is everything okay? What was that noise_?”

“Ah, everything is fine! Don’t worry! That was just… uh, a movie. We’re watching a movie and um, the volume got turned up and - yeah…” He finished lamely.

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry said, then paused. “ _Well I don’t want to nag, but if you’re not careful you’ll damage your ears, you know. You shouldn’t have the volume on so high._ ”

“Sorry, Harry,” Skull said, sinking down in relief. He glanced over, but Verde was preoccupied writing the results of his bomb on his clipboard.

“ _Of course it’s okay. I just worry about you sometimes, Skull._ ” Harry sighed. “ _Oh, and I sent Mort along with Luna and Rolf on their latest trip, so I won’t be able to write you for a little while. I’ll be sure to call as often as I can, though._ ”

“Okay,” Skull resisted the urge to sigh. They’d been getting more and more missions lately, and it was very difficult to keep the fighting a secret from his godfather. Still, Skull was determined. He would protect his Harry from the cruelty of the Mafia world. “I’d better go, though. The - ah, movie, is um, just getting to the good part…”

“ _Oh right! Of course, sorry Skull. I’ll call again another time! Stay safe now, and don’t go getting into any trouble, you hear me?_ ”

“Of course Harry,” Skull laughed a little nervously. “I would never.”

Harry hummed suspiciously. “ _And tell me when your next performance is, alright? It’s been so long since you’ve let me attend_.”

“Er - yeah. I’ll definitely let you know when the next big one is,” Skull said, pulling nervously at his sleeve.

“ _You’ll stay safe, won’t you Skull?_ ” Harry asked then, sounding unusually solemn.

For one small moment Skull felt the urge to confess everything - to tell Harry just what he’d been coerced to do.

But Harry was a civilian, and Skull didn’t want to burden him with his problems. He knew that Harry had fought in a war before, but the Mafia was different. And he didn’t think Harry would survive its brutality.

“Of course, Harry. I’m always careful,” he promised.

Harry gave a sigh but finally relented and bid him goodbye. The line went dead and Skull exhaled loudly. That was close. Too close. Skull would have to be more careful, next time. There was no way he’d let sweet, sweet Harry get caught up in such a violent world.

 

**Short** :

Harry opened the fancy envelope curiously. His eyes widened as he read the elegant script. He glanced up at Luca, who was watching him with his usual grumpy expression.

“You’re getting married?” Harry did not squeak but it was pretty close.

Next to him, Maria clutched her own invitation, jaw dropped in shock.

Luca scowled.

“Ah, I mean, of course you’re getting married. Who wouldn’t want to marry you…” Harry trailed off, glancing nervously at Maria.

“Yeah,” she agreed a little weakly. “Anyone would be swept away by your winning personality.”

Luca grunted and Maria let out a small _eep_. “We’ll both attend, of course,” she said far too quickly.

Harry nodded a emphatic agreement, forcing away a hysterical laugh as Luca straightened to his full height (how did people get so tall, anyway?) and gave them a nod before striding away.

Harry and Maria sagged in relief, trading a glance.

“Did you know he was dating someone?” Maria whispered.

Harry shook his head. “I thought everyone was terrified of him,” he whispered back.

They both jerked apart and did their best to look innocent when Luca paused his stride and turned to look back at them. Harry waved with a smile while Maria tried to slowly sink into her chair.


	8. Please Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad luck all around.

Skull was pretty sure that even though he wasn’t a Potter, he had inherited their terrible luck. He stared at his hands in disbelief. They were far too small. He couldn’t even remember ever being this small. What was going on?

His breaths quickened and he felt a little light-headed.

Harry.

Looking around, Skull could see the others, all of them small, just like him.

Harry.

And Luce, sorrow and… guilt upon her face. A face he had once thought lovely. Now, he thought it vile.

_Harry_.

“Merlin’s balls,” he whispered. His nose stung and his vision blurred. “What am I going to tell Harry.”

There was a faint popping sound and a rush of cool magic that could only be one person -

“Oh Skull.” Large, gentle hands picked him up and cradled him in a way that felt so very familiar.

Skull buried his face in his godfather’s shoulder, not quite sure how, but still infinitely grateful that Harry was _here_.

“What have you done now.” Harry’s voice was fond and his embrace warm and Skull felt like a child again.

“I got unlucky,” he mumbled.

Harry’s chest rumbled soothingly in a chuckle. “Shall I take you home, Skull? Aunty Luna’s cooking dinner.”

Skull nodded.

There was the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Who are you?” The voice was high and childish, but there was no mistaking Reborn’s tone.

Skull leaned back to defend Harry, but his Godfather was smiling distantly, looking distinctly unworried.

“Just Harry,” he replied, as his eyes swept the group. His eyes lingered on Luce for a moment, and Skull thought he could hear the rattling of bones.

Then Harry blinked and tilted his head in greeting. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said politely. Vacantly. “But I’m afraid it’s Skull’s nap time.”

Skull turned to look at the others, and felt a fluttering in his chest when he saw the way they had tensed, their gazes darting between him and Harry. Most of their weapons were too large for them now, but he could see Reborn struggling to keep his gun steady, Verde fiddling with a remote too big for his hands, and Fon smiling far too calmly.

He grinned. “Nothing can bring down the great Skull-sama!” He proclaimed.

Reborn scowled and fingered the trigger of his gun.

Harry sighed.

Then he spun on his heel and was gone.

—

Harry held Skull out in front of him. He tilted his head to the side as he studied his godson. “Will you need diapers again?”

“Harry!” Skull flushed red and glared.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh, Skull…” He trailed off, something strange glimmering in his eyes.

Skull frowned then, then reached out with a hand, only to remember that his arms were far too short now and he couldn’t reach Harry’s face. “Harry?” He said instead as he let his arm drop.

“You… You’re…” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then slowly, slowly, he brought Skull back into his gentle embrace, one hand supporting him from underneath, the other pressing Skull’s head into his shoulder. “You’re so _cute_.”

Skull squawked. “ _What_?” He tried to pull himself out of Harry’s embrace - when had Harry gotten so _strong_?

“Luna!” Harry called as he strode into the cottage.

“In the kitchen, Harry!”

“You remember how cute Skull was when he was little?”

“Oh, yes, the sweetest bean,” she said as she waved her wooden spoon. A few droplets of pasta sauce lunged for the kitchen cabinets.

“ _Bean_!? I - I’m not cute! I’m manly! Really, really… manly…” Skull defended a little desperately. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed and he tried very hard to ignore just how high his voice had gotten.

Luna paused, turned, and stared. “Oh,” she said a little faintly. Her eyes scanned him, lingering on the pacifier hanging from his neck. “Potter luck,” she said finally, a hand settling on her hip as she glanced up at Harry accusingly.

—

“This is Old Magic,” Bill Weasley said as he waved his wand in front of Skull’s purple pacifier. “It’s strong, and… not of wizarding origin.”

Skull’s hands clenched into fists. “So cursebreakers…”

He shook his head, regret marring his features. “This is beyond the ability of any wizard. It is… connected to the very foundations of Earth herself.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Thank you, Bill.” He picked Skull up and tucked him under his chin. For once, Skull did not protest.

“I’m sorry, Harry, Teddy. I wish I could do more. I’ll… I’ll put out some feelers. See if anyone has heard of anything like this. But… I’m not confident…”

Harry shook his head. “I appreciate it. Any information you can find is valuable, but do not feel obligated.”

“You’re family. Of course I’ll help.” Bill smiled, the scars on his face stretching grotesquely.

Harry smiled a little distantly. It was hard to focus with such strong magic pressed against his chest. He could feel tendrils reaching downwards into the earth, powered by…

Skull.

His godson.

His grip tightened protectively.

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Luna asked, her hands clenched around Rolf’s.

“I’m afraid I can’t. But I’ll be in touch. You’ll probably hear from Mum soon as well. You know how she frets.” Bill stood, towering and mutilated, but so very kind.

Harry nodded but said nothing more. Bill did not seem to find offence in his reticence, and simply apparated away with a final pat on Skull’s head.

—

“Say, Skull,” Harry said as he glanced at his godson’s phone. “I think your friends are trying to contact you.”

The phone had been buzzing almost nonstop.

“I don’t want to talk to them,” His godson glanced away.

Harry hummed as he glanced at the flashing screen. “Who’s Fedora-face?”

Skull blinked as he stared at his phone in surprise. “Reborn messaged?”

Tilting his head, Harry said nothing more, and simply passed the phone to his godson.

Reborn.

He knew that name.

Everyone in the underworld knew that name. It was a dangerous one, and Harry was both relieved and concerned that such a man was Skull’s team mate. Because the powerful drew great enemies, but they also had the ability to protect.

Harry had known that Skull had gotten mixed up in some… questionable work. Skull had, of course, tried to hide it, but Harry had raised him. He knew all of Skull’s tells, and he himself was now intimately familiar with the underworld. But he had not quite realized the extent to which his godson had been drawn into the Mafia world.

His eyes lidded as he felt a slow curl of rage within him.

Someone had brought his godson into a world of danger and violence. One that was almost impossible to leave. And now his godson was cursed.

Harry leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. He needed to know more. Skull was far from forthcoming, and was under the heavy illusion that Harry knew nothing of the Mafia world. Harry had dropped hints, of course, but is sweet godson was stubborn in his belief.

So Harry let him be. He was not quite sure how Skull would react if he found out the truth, so he’d wait… just a little longer.

But this meant that he would need to learn from a different source.

His gaze drifted to Skull, who was texting furiously while yelling insults at his phone.

He knew exactly where to go.

—

Harry sipped his drink casually as he flipped the page of his book. The bar was crowded but not overly noisy, since most people who frequented the place were here for… discreet business. 

“Not many people read at a bar.”

Harry easily admitted that he was startled to find someone sitting across from him. He lowered his book and blinked. It was known that Reborn frequented the bar on occasion, but there was never a set schedule, so Harry had taken to coming a few times a week for almost a month now.

“It’s my lure,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “It attracts only the most powerful.”

The baby blinked, then dipped his head, his fedora momentarily obscuring his features. “You sure it’s working properly?” He asked, glancing back up, eyes wide and innocent but for the shade of darkness lurking within.

“It has yet to fail me,” he replied. It was, technically, the truth.

“I have never heard of such a weapon.” The hitman’s voice was high and far too cute for such a dangerous person.

“Well,” Harry mused. “Knowledge is power.”

The baby smiled. “I’m Reborn.”

“Harry.” He held out his hand. The baby took one of the fingers and they shook. “May I buy you a drink?”

Reborn blinked guilelessly. “A glass of milk?”

“Warmed up with honey?”

“That’s best had before bed,” Reborn rebuked.

“My apologies. It’s my godson’s favourite drink.”

“You have a godson?” Reborn’s gaze was calculating. Harry knew it was a risk revealing just how close they were, but it was necessary.

“I do,” he said. “He’s about your age, in fact. Far louder, though,” he smiled.

“Perhaps I go to school with him then,” Reborn said.

“I believe he’s one of your classmates,” Harry nodded. “The one with purple hair. Can’t miss him.”

“Oh, yes,” Reborn’s eyes were sharp. “You picked him up from school the other week.”

“I did.”

“I haven’t seen him in class lately.”

“He wasn’t feeling well. He might miss a week or two. I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet soon after that, though.”

“I do hope so.”

Harry hummed. “Isn’t it a little late for a child to be out?”

Reborn blinked his large eyes. Then he yawned. “It’s past my bedtime,” he agreed. Then he held out his arms. “Will you bring me home? I don’t know where my parents went.”

Harry tilted his head. “Of course,” he said. He stood and dropped a few bills on the table before picking up the tiny hitman. No one glanced twice at them. They knew better than to cross one of the arcobaleno.

—

“This one,” The baby on his shoulder pointed at the room at the end of the hallway.

Obligingly, Harry took the key and unlocked the door. He entered the small apartment and let the door close softly behind them. He glanced around, noting that it was rather bare, holding only the necessities. There was no decor, no personal touch.

The cold metal of a gun touched his temple. He tilted his head slightly but did not move.

“I should kill you,” said Reborn, voice cold. It was an odd dissonance to hear such a tone coming from a child. Well, the body of a child. Because only the ignorant could mistake those eyes for anything other than _deadly_.

Harry hummed. “You really shouldn’t,” he disagreed.

“Oh?” Reborn asked, sounding almost amused. “Why not? You _saw_ , and you _took_. Why should I not strike down a threat?”

“I am not a threat,” said Harry.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Harry was silent for a moment. “I am here because of Skull. Because he has been cursed, and I fear that this curse will one day consume him.” He closed his eyes for a moment, even as the gun dug deeper. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

When Reborn spoke, his voice was soft and dangerous. “And you think I will let you in on our secrets? Do you think me a fool? Do you know how many times I could have killed you? You are alive because I was curious. No matter where you have taken Skull, we will find him.” The baby tilted his head. “But enough of that. I don’t like kidnappers. Time is up. Goodbye, Harry.”

Reborn’s finger twitched.

The gun, smaller and adapted to fit such a small hand, recoiled with a _bang_.

And Harry flickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not unlucky,” Harry said with a frown.  
> “Mate,” Uncle Ron rolled his eyes. “Who do you think you’re trying to fool?”  
> Harry sniffed and turned away.


	9. Generic Jazz Music

Harry knew it was a risk using his powers this way. Slipping into the void was so very easy, but shifting back… pulling away from the tender embrace of Death…

Death, who hummed in his ears, so very pleased by his presence. He could feel the brush of His fingers along his skin, luring him further and further.

 _Teddy_.

He pulled away, flicker by shuddering flicker. He felt the bullet pass where his head had been a moment ago, slipping through his hair with a whisper, unable to touch him in this state. He wondered distantly at Reborn’s aim. For the skilled hitman to miss was… odd.

 _Skull_.

The baby slipped through his body, his shoulder no longer corporeal, no longer able to touch.

_His godson._

He reached downward, his fingers chasing the cursed baby, his form moving, flowing, until he brushed the hitman’s neck with his cold touch and breathed Death into his veins.

Then he stepped through, past, further into the room, rattling bones in his wake. His form flickered again, solidifying as he turned to face his opponent.

“Harry Black,” The baby rasped, eyes wide, gun trembling in his hand. It was no longer aimed at him. “What are you.”

Harry tilted his head curiously, blinking as the void faded, whispers veiling. He pulled the last tendrils of his being back into himself. He was here for a purpose. For his godson.

“Skull’s godfather, of course,” He murmured finally.

Reborn laughed, a hint of hysteria to his voice. “I admit,” he said, “that I am surprised. Harry Black, Chiavarone housekeeper, and… something else entirely.” His gaze was piercing, curious, and more than a little wary.

So, the hitman had looked into him. Harry supposed he was not entirely surprised, though it seemed to contradict his earlier hostility.

“Cursed. Like you, but… not.” Great. Eloquent. But words were still fuzzy in his mind. “Are you going to shoot me again?”

Reborn eyed him for another moment before tucking away his gun. “I wasn’t going to kill you,” he muttered a little defensively. “I just needed to test you.”

Harry eyed him dubiously.

“We’ve been cursed. We’re… vulnerable.” Reborn grimaced at the admission. “Skull is young and naive. He needs someone who can protect him.” The hitman crossed his arms.

Harry laughed. “He’s a rebellious teenager. He won’t let me protect him for long.”

“Just until he can get back onto his bike.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgement. “And have I passed your little test?”

Reborn smirked. “I’d heard that you were good. The Chiavarone Famiglia’s best kept secret. Of course, nothing really stays secret for long in our world.”

“No,” Harry agreed. “I suppose not.”

“But I had to be sure that my sources were not mistaken.”

“And were they?”

“No,” Reborn watched him, a flicker of wariness in his eyes. “They were not.”

Harry smiled. “Well then,” he said mildly. “Shall we get down to business?”

Reborn’s hand twitched, but he nodded. “You were looking for me,” he said.

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I need information.”

“And you think you can afford the cost?”

“Oh,” Harry hummed. “I think you’ll find that you’ll be more than happy to give me what I want.”

“Is that so?” Reborn’s voice was dangerous, but he hadn’t forgotten the feel of Harry’s power.

“Your curse,” Harry said, “Is one that has been around for hundreds of years. It was a temporary solution, meant to be solved long ago. But it has lingered, unfinished, and has… thrown the balance of power and souls.” His eyes lidded, darkening with the void. A chill crept into the air. “It will drain you. It has already begun. I will not allow my godson to succumb to such a fate.”

Dark eyes widened. “You intend to break the curse.”

Harry inclined his head in affirmation.

“What do you need?”

“Everything you know about it.”

—

Harry’s phone pinged just as he stepped through the door of his cottage.

 

_You still owe me a drink ;)_

_\- Reborn_

 

Harry’s lips quirked.

“Harry!”

He turned, eyes widening as his gaze fell upon a beaming Luna and a struggling Skull. She held him tightly in her arms, as if she couldn’t bear to let him go.

Skull was red in the face, looking far too cute in the dragon onesie that Harry had not been able to throw away, even all these years later. It had been Skull’s favourite for a long time.

Harry’s hands trembled as he lifted his phone.

 _Click_.

“Harry!”

“I just,” He said with a watery sniff that made Skull pause. “I can’t bear how cute you are.” He stared at the photo. “It’s going to be my new phone background.”

“ _Harry-y_!”

—

Checkerface.

The name was not familiar, but it was enough for him to search and find.

He closed his eyes, tasting the name upon his lips, feeling it swirl around his tongue and into the air. There was magic to a name, even a pseudonym. And Checkerface had gone by this name long enough for it to have developed a feel of its own.

His eyes opened, drowned in black as he reached, stretching his senses further, further.

 _There_.

He stood, eyes unblinking as the air around him warped and he disappeared.

Harry stepped out into a dark alleyway, glancing around curiously. He stepped onto the street. Florence.

Vongola territory.

Well, the Chiavarone were their allies, so it wasn’t an issue for him to be here. But he’d have to be sure not to cause any trouble.

He followed the trace of magic to a small cafe overlooking the street. It was half filled but it didn’t take long for Harry to find the one he was looking for. He could sense it easily - a power both magic and flames.

The man looked up as Harry sat down at his table. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight and his face was set politely. “Hello,” the man greeted pleasantly.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry returned. He held out his hand. “I’m Harry.”

“Kawahira,” the man shook it. Harry let out a trickle of his power.

“Oh?” He tilted his head. “I thought it was Checkerface.”

Kawahira’s expression faltered, wariness flaring within his gaze. “May I help you?”

“Most certainly,” Harry smiled. He touched his hand to his wand and around them the air shimmered, giving them the privacy they needed for this conversation. “You see, I’m afraid my godson has fallen victim to your little…” he waved his fingers, “scheme.”

Kawahira’s eyes narrowed.

“I want to be angry with you,” Harry continued blithely. “I want to curse your name and drag you into the afterlife. But… well, I have my orders. So tell me, One-Who-Has-Lost-His-Way, why have you not done as you were supposed to? Why have you not found the balance? It was the task of your people, given to you centuries ago.”

Checkerface was pale, lips thin and fists clenched. “You have no right to judge me,” he said, his voice calm despite his demeanor. “You do not know what I have suffered.”

Green eyes lidded. He leaned back. “So tell me.”

The man’s face set, rebellious in the face of Harry’s demand. Letting his powers flare, Harry watched as the man paled, hand trembling as it gripped his cup of tea. Then he reeled it back in, returning warmth to the air. Just a warning for now. One that Checkerface would do well to heed.

Kawahira’s glasses flashed as he lowered his head in thought. He was silent for a moment, as if debating. Then he raised his head, face impassive, eyes cold. “I am the last. All those before me abandoned their duty and escaped in death. Again and again, I had to find a way to bring balance, and again and again I was left. And now there is only me, and I have done what I could, sacrificed my morals for the sake of humanity.” He smiled, cold and mirthless. “I have done everything for this world.”

Harry cocked his head. “The Lost One,” he murmured. “That is what He calls you.”

“He?”

“He wishes for me to aide you. And of course, as He wills, so I obey.”

Kawahira watched him with guarded eyes. “Who do you serve?”

Harry cocked his head. “The balance, the cycle, the end of all things.”

A pause. “Death,” Kawahira murmured, eyes wide.

Harry dipped his head. “Just so.”

“Is it my time then?” Kawahira’s face settled back into a politely blank expression.

Harry smiled. “I’m afraid not. Death is… not pleased with you, but He is fair. He has sent me to help you, and so I shall. But I know nothing of the curse.”

Kawahira’s glasses flashed, momentarily obscuring his eyes. “It’s the flames,” he said at last. “The seven flames are needed to protect the Tri-ni-sette, the stones that keep the balance of life.”

“And so the pacifiers take the flames,” Harry murmured. “How long?”

Kawahira pressed his lips thinly. “If they are truly the strongest… thirty years.”

Thirty. So little time. “And then?”

The man looked away, and Harry knew. Something cold pierced his heart and his eyes lidded. “I see,” he murmured, voice like ice. The air around them cooled.

“I have no choice,” Kawahira said sharply, his breath misting as he spoke. “If I do not do this, the world will fall.”

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For the greater good. Harry knew all about that. How he despised the phrase - a deep set hatred that lingered in his very core.

And yet…

What was the life of a mere few compared to the survival of the entire world? He laughed, tired and mirthless.

Kawahira was staring at him warily. Harry sighed and the air warmed. “There must be a way.” Green eyes met brown. “I will help you find a way.”

Eyes lowered, Kawahira dipped his head. “ _Please_ ,” he said so softly that Harry thought he might have imagined it.

 

 **Short** :

Harry took a sip of his drink, trying not to feel too morose. “Skull left,” He sighed.

“It has been a month,” Reborn pointed out, far too reasonably.

“He talked about getting a job.”

“He’s certainly old enough to.”

“But… what if he takes the wrong kind of job?”

“I’ll… steer him in the right direction,” Reborn smirked.

Harry eyed him dubiously.

The hitman sniffed. “I’ll make sure he learns how to take care of himself.”

“You want to… teach him?” Harry’s brows furrowed.

“I think I’d make an excellent tutor.”

“I’m not sure I trust you with my godson.”

Reborn used both hands to lift one of Harry’s before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I promise, I shall take the very best care of him.” His eyes gleamed.

Harry stared back blankly. “You’re going to get him killed.”

“I would never.” Reborn smirked.

“I’ll bring him back to haunt you.”

Reborn blanched. “Definitely never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The dragon onesie was from Charlie Weasley, who temporarily became Teddy's favourite uncle.)


	10. We had a last minute cancellation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter written for a while. Then I decided that I didn't like it, so I completely rewrote it. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

“Now this book - ” Nicolas Flamel said, gesturing at a large tome in the library of the Flamel estate. Despite being a mere spirit, he managed to dislodge a cloud of dust.

Harry sneezed, and since he had been hovering near the ceiling, shot himself a backwards a few feet. He floated back over to read the spine.

_Cleansing Moste Stronge_

“Fantastic household charms. Created by yours truly.” The dead alchemist puffed his chest. His equally dead wife fawned over him.

“I married the smartest man alive,” She sighed.

Harry chose not to point out that neither of them were actually alive anymore. In fact, they were only here because Harry had used the resurrection stone to summon them.

_(“Tri-ni-sette. Sounds familiar…”_

_“Of course we’ll help you research. Our library is very extensive. It would take you ages on your own!”)_

Harry eyed the Flamels dubiously, beginning to doubt the veracity of their promise. They had so far pointed out every single cook book, three books on muggle creatures ( _so exotic_ , Perenelle sighed), and twelve books on modern basket weaving.

_I’m doing this for Skull_ , Harry reminded himself when his eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head.

“Oh, Nic,” Perenelle squealed. The plant beside her cringed and inched its pot backwards. “Remember this? The book of poetry you wrote for me?”

“Of course I remember, my dearest. _My love for you is like the stars. It could power my broom all the way to Mars_.”

Perenelle giggled.

Harry wondered if he had made a big mistake.

—

A sheet of parchment fell to the floor as Harry pulled out yet another book. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Two weeks. Two weeks of scouring the library with the overly cheerful Flamel ghosts. He was beginning to wonder if it would have been faster on his own…

Nicolas peered at the book, then shook his head. Harry shelved it and bent down to pick up the parchment.

“Nic, Nic, it’s The Recipe,” Perenelle breathed as she stared at the paper in his hand. Nicolas’ eyes widened reverently.

Harry glanced at it curiously. Recipe?

_Perenelle’s Infamous Meatloaf_

In smaller, scratchier script next to the title was a parentheses.

_(The Colon Cleanser)_

Harry held the paper a little further away from himself.

“So many wonderful dinners because of this recipe,” Perenelle beamed.

“Oh yes, and quite a smooth release of the bowels too,” Nicolas added in a stage whisper, winking at Harry who shifted a little uncomfortably at the thought.

“I wonder if Talbot misses them,” Perenelle rested her cheek on her hand. “The poor dear, all alone since we died…”

“Talbot?” Harry hummed.

“Oh, yes, one of our dearest friends. A bit of a recluse, that one. But we did many projects together. In fact, he was the one who inspired us to make the Philosopher’s stone.”

“Oh?” Harry tilted his head.

“I just couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone for so long,” Perenelle sniffed. “Spending his days by himself, no one to cook for him or keep him company…”

“Not to mention he kept bragging about being favoured by Death…” Nicolas shrugged. “Figured it got mighty lonely, being one of the few immortals.”

Harry blinked. “You… made the Philosopher’s Stone so that you could potentially live forever and keep him company?”

“And bring him meatloaf every Friday,” Perenelle beamed.

“That was… very kind of you.”

“Such a polite lad,” Nicolas chuckled, his arm passing through Harry as he attempted to slap him on the back.

“You know, now that I think about it, I think Talbot might be able to help you,” Perenelle tapped her lips thoughtfully. “He did a lot of research into the ancient magics.”

“Any help is most appreciated,” Harry replied diplomatically.

She beamed. “Oh, if you do go see him, will you do me a favour?”

 

—

“What is that, Harry?” Luna peered dubiously into the oven. The meat stared back.

“A gift… of sorts.”

Luna backed away slowly.

—

“Six hundred years. Six hundred bloody years of casserole. And just when I think I’m free of it…”

Harry stared down at the meatloaf. He shrugged. “I promised Perenelle I’d bring you some.”

“Did you know she used to make fruit cake at Yule as well? As tough and heavy as bricks.”

Harry thought back on Hagrid’s rock cakes.

“And in the spring she’d make these jello salads…”

“I think my aunt used to make those,” Harry hummed, thinking back on the meals he hadn’t been allowed to eat. He wondered how Perenelle, a famous alchemist in her own right, could be such a horrible cook.

Talbot stared at the casserole with an odd mixture of horror and fondness. “I called it the toilet plugger,” he said with a sigh as he went to fetch a spoon.

Harry declined to taste it.

—

Talbot’s house was… odd. It towered higher than the Burrow, each floor added more precariously than the previous. It swayed in the wind with a series of creaks that worked their way up the stories, culminating in a crackling of bristling roof tiles.

There was something wonderfully magical about it, though. The feeling had seeped into the walls and floor over the years, imbuing the building with a sense of life and home. It was probably why the chairs had the tendency to wander off with visitors still perched upon them, and the cutlery tried to feed everyone in sight. Harry had to fend off more than one spoonful of meatloaf while repeatedly tripping over an excitable rug.

Talbot was working his way through the casserole, looking a little green. He sniffed occasionally and dabbed at his eyes and Harry politely averted his gaze. He wandered the work room instead, eyeing the large variety of pickled body parts and fully intact sets of teeth.

“Tri-ni-sette, you said?” The immortal said finally as he led Harry into his library. The books danced eagerly around the two immortals.

“Yes, Checkerface has been gathering the seven strongest flames of each generation to power it, stealing their flames until there is nothing left.” Harry’s eyes lidded as he remembered the vile feel of Skull’s pacifier - the way it tore and stole and devoured.

Talbot handed him a book. He opened it almost automatically, tilting his head when he came upon a particularly interesting passage.

“Self-sufficient?” He murmured. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Flames are somewhat like magic. They are… alive in a way that is independent of their wielder. Perhaps not conscious, but there is something _more_ to them.”

Harry nodded slowly. He could not deny that at times his flames felt almost eager to be used. To be wielded. To work _with_ him.

“The magical world has long used precious stones to harness and preserve large amounts of magic. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps the same can be done with flames…” Harry finished, leaning forward with wide eyes. “To remove the need for a living host…”

Talbot nodded his wizened head. The bird skulls around his neck clacked their beaks victoriously.

“We will not know for sure until we find the proper medium, so I’m afraid it will not be an instant solution.” Talbot stroked his beard, sombre but for the fascinated twinkle in his eyes. The opportunity for such experimentation was far too appealing for the immortal to pass up.

“Thirty years,” Harry said. “We have thirty years.” Harry hoped it would not take that long - that Skull would not be condemned to the body of a child for three decades.

“Well then,” Talbot pushed away the empty casserole dish. It scuttled past Harry’s elbow and made a dash for freedom. “Shall we get started?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (“What are you getting Luca as a wedding gift?” Maria leaned closer to Harry, her question whispered as she shot a nervous glance at the man in question.  
> “I haven’t decided yet,” Harry admitted. “I thought about getting him a crossbow, but…” He eyed the way Luca was clutching his steak knife, glaring at the loud group of newbies at the table next to him.  
> “I think the Ninth is getting him a new gun.”  
> “Does he want us all to die?”)


	11. I believe we can slot you in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have never actually used aromatherapy. Harry's present is probably effective because of... magic.

Harry hummed as he perused the various trinkets lining Talbot’s workshop. He wondered if the man would mind parting with one of them - he still needed a wedding gift for Luca.

Then again, he mused as he prodded the sentient sludge, perhaps one of Talbot’s creations was not the best idea.

“What about this one?” Talbot’s question broke him from his thoughts as the man thrust an open book into his field of vision.

“We already tried fire from a blast-ended skrewt,” Harry said as he peered at their research notes.

“Bugger,” Talbot lowered the book. “How about the salamander? I saw him in the forest the other day - or rather, his charred path…”

“Done already,” Harry murmured, scanning the entries. “We could try a Djinn.”

“Hm, should have one of those lying around. In the storage room. Fetch it for me, will you?”

Harry stood a little reluctantly. The storage room was full of questionable items. He’d already had to dig through it twice to find spare toilets and had emerged with a variety of curses and hexes lingering upon his skin. One of them had forced him to speak only in limerick for a week until he’d managed to counter it. Another one had…

Well.

Harry was simply glad he worked alone. Explaining bloodless victims and sacrificial altars was awkward at best.

He had nothing against the Old Gods, of course, and they seemed to like him well enough, but he was relieved when he’d fulfilled that particular curse.

He ducked behind a bookcase just in time to avoid the gaze of a particularly enthusiastic Anubis statue. He paused to politely greet the snakes on a Medusa painting, then continued further into the large room. There was barely a pathway but Harry was almost used to the chaos that was Talbot’s house.

Eventually he came upon a large stone basin with a small jar placed at the centre. It was a rather simple container but for the flames that flickered around it.

“Good morning,” Harry called politely.

The jar rattled a little, then the lid moved upwards, propelled by a head that appeared comically large in comparison to the vessel that held it. The lid rested on his head like a miniature hat.

“What?” the Djinn eyed him suspiciously.

“Talbot wished for me to fetch you,” Harry replied.

“What does he want now?”

“Just the use of your fire.”

The Djinn shrank down a little, eyes narrowed. “Last time he wanted to use my fire, he almost got the both of us killed.”

“… How?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, even though he probably did not want to know.

“Well, there was this terrible smell coming from the toilet, and - “

“Nevermind,” Harry blanched.

“So no toilet this time?”

“No toilet. Just a bit of sand.”

The Djinn did not look particularly convinced.

“Harmless sand. Really. We collected it at the beach the other day. Perfectly natural. We just need your fire to turn it into glass.”

The Djinn hummed. “Beach sand isn’t very pure, but I suppose it could work.”

Harry shrugged. “We’re experimenting.”

“Uhuh,” the Djinn emerged full and placed the lid back on his jar with a dainty clink. “Well, lead the way.”

—

“Oh good,” Talbot glanced up as they entered the room. He gestured at the pile of sand. “A jar, if you please.”

The Djinn shrugged and picked up the sand with his hands, allowing his flames to shape and morph the grains, melting and molding. He stepped back, leaving behind a small, frosted jar.

“Harry, if you please.”

Harry stepped forward, gathering his purple flames to his hand. They flared, eager to be used, and he pushed them into the jar before replacing the lid.

All three of them leaned forward as the flames began to settle, calming a touch as they condensed into a smaller ball. Then -

_Boom_.

Birdsong reached his ears and Harry sat up slowly. Fresh air came in through the newest hole in the wall, helping sweep away the smoke.

“Another table gone,” Talbot sighed at the wreckage.

Harry took their research notes from his pocket. _Wouldn’t recommend reattempting this combination_ , he noted down. He paused, then: _explodes._ He underlined it twice, just to be sure.

The Djinn was grumbling, and Harry doubted he’d be able to convince it to help them again anyway. Probably for the best, really.

—

“You have soot on your cheek,” Luna peered up at him from where she was lying on the floor, covered in baby crups.

Harry picked up one of the puppies. It licked his cheek, its forked tail wagging furiously. “I need help,” he said. “I need to buy a wedding present.”

Luna’s eyes gleamed.

—

“Aromatherapy?” Maria eyed his gift dubiously.

“It was… recommended,” Harry admitted. Luna, with flushed cheeks and a slightly glazed look to her eyes had insisted that the bride would _thoroughly_ enjoy it. Especially when Luna finished mixing the perfect Jasmine scent. Harry decided not to question her.

He glanced questioningly at her gift.

“It’s a miniature zen garden,” she said. “It’s meditative.”

Harry nodded knowingly.

—

Harry, Maria, and Marco did their best not to gape as the bride walked down the aisle. She was quite beautiful, but that was a fleeting thought in the face of her diminutive stature and the utter innocence she radiated. Not to mention the way she looked at Luca as if he had just been crowned king.

“Does she know…” Harry asked as quietly as he could.

“She’s from the Sangue Family,” Marco replied.

Maria choked.

They stared at the bride disbelievingly as she tripped at the end of the aisle, falling into Luca’s arms with a giggle.

They held their breaths, but Luca merely caught her and righted her with gentle hands.

“Huh,” was all Harry could say.

Next to them, the Ninth was beaming through thick tears, clutching tightly to his wife, Gilda, while his guardians hovered anxiously with tissues.

—

“Is Luca… smiling?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s an illusion. There’s no other explanation.”

—

The attack came quickly and violently, shortly after the bride and groom finished their vows. Harry noted absently as he placed himself in front of the Ninth that no one seemed particularly surprised. His eyes flicked to the insignia tattooed on the neck of his victim as he thrust his knife upwards.

Gospella.

Likely hoping to disrupt the union between the Chiavarone and Sangue families. He glanced to the side as he withdrew his knife, leaving the corpse to slump to the ground. He could see Maria and Marco back-to-back as they shot at any who even dared to look at the Ninth. Luca was currently strangling two men - one in each hand. And Luca’s bride, Chiara…

Well.

Her wedding dress looked like it had been sawed off at the knees and it was more red now than white. She was launching herself at foe after foe, a war cry leaving her lips whenever she moved, a triumphant noise that rang above the din of battle. Her teeth were bared and her eyes flashed and Harry realized then why she and Luca made such a good couple. Most certainly she lived up to the bloodthirsty reputation of her Famiglia.

Harry’s knife was slippery with blood and he took a moment to wipe the handle on the shirt of his latest kill. The Gospella Family was large. They were one of the Chiavarone’s largest enemies, and they had certainly spared no expense launching this attack. Wave after wave of men flowed into the room like so many ants. The room was a blur of motion and Death and Harry could feel the chill of the entity’s presence. It was… utterly ridiculous. He stood with a gentle smile. It wouldn’t be a mafia wedding, after all, without a little bit of chaos.

—

“Couldn’t think of a better match,” the Ninth beamed, eyes still a little watery as he watched the newlyweds patch each other up after the fight. His hair was rather dishevelled and his tie was missing but otherwise he looked rather unfazed by the whole situation. Gilda tutted over a small cut on his arm,

Harry hummed his agreement.

Luca grunted. Chiara beamed.

“You have some good fighters,” Luca’s wife said, her hand coming up to politely cover her mouth. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to part with one or two of them?” Her eyes darted to Harry, narrowed and assessing.

“Ah, I’m afraid we will need all of our own to deal with the Gospella. You understand, of course, the difficulties of recruitment…” the Ninth dipped his head in apology even as his hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder in a firm clasp.

Chiara sighed. “I thought so. Ah, well, it was worth a try.” She turned to her husband with a sweet smile. “You’ll have to help me make some formidable fighters.”

Marco made a choking sound while Harry turned away politely.

—

The next day, Harry found most of his associates giving him wide-eyed looks.

“The Smiling Terror.”

Harry glanced up questioningly at Marco. The man was grinning.

“Rumour has it that’s what the Gospella call you.”

“But… why?” Harry’s brow furrowed.

“Well, for one they think you’re insane. Who else smiles as they kill?”

Harry… supposed he had been smiling. But not because he had been killing. It had simply been far too amusing of a situation not to. He sighed. “I’m pretty sure you and Maria killed more men than I did,” he tried to reason.

“Yeah, but we didn’t spend the whole time chuckling.”

“I was simply making known my amusement at the situation.”

“Mmhmm, as if dying wasn’t likely to happen at any moment.”

“Death is… nothing to be feared, really. Just another adventure after this one.”

Marco eyed him dubiously. “Yeah, sure.”

Harry rolled a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, resisting the urge to scowl. “They can call me what they will. It doesn’t bother me.”

—

Luca’s large hand came to rest on Harry’s shoulder at lunch a few days later, pausing him mid-bite.

“Chiara is pregnant. Thank you.”

Harry’s mouth parted slightly in surprise, eyebrows raised. Why was Luca thanking him? He hadn’t -

_‘It will help her get exactly what she wants,’ Luna giggled._

Oh.

“That only took a week,” Harry said a little faintly.

Luca smirked.

Across the table, Gilda leaned forward curiously and Harry felt strangely nervous.

“Aromatherapy, wasn’t it?” she said, eyes gleaming. “You’ll get some for me, too, won’t you, Harry?”

He could only nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Skull said that I’m as bad as Grandma Molly,” Harry stared into his drink.  
> “You bought a second phone so that you could store more photos,” Reborn pointed out.  
> “It’s not like I knit him Yule sweaters or send him pumpkin pasties every week,” Harry continued, pillowing his head with his arms.  
> “You can also stop sending the photos to all of your contacts.”  
> Harry paused at that. “I just want everyone to see how cute he is,” he sighed.  
> Reborn muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘he’s not’, but Harry ignored him. He was good at ignoring advice. He always had been, and he wasn’t about to stop now.


	12. How does 4pm sound?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Beautiful fanart of Harry,](https://www.deviantart.com/heyitsmeyaoifan100/art/I-ll-be-back-Teddy-799269969) by Justarandomlittleshit!

There was the sound of running and the crashing of doors resounded throughout the mansion. Harry and Maria glanced at each other as the sounds neared their office. 

They reached for their weapons.

The door burst open and they leapt to their feet, hands twitching, only to pause when they realized that it was the Ninth, his form heaving as he panted.

He looked at them, eyes wide and panicked. “Gilda’s pregnant,” he wheezed. Then he turned an alarming shade of white, and fainted.

Harry stared at the crumpled form of their boss for a moment, then shrugged and returned to work. Slowly Maria followed suit. They would let the Ninth rest. While he still could.

—

Harry stared at the page in front of him. “This is not our territory. This is not our hit.” He raised a brow as he looked up at Marco.

“It is not. It’s Vongola. Think of it as a favour from one Famiglia to another during their time of turmoil.” Marco tilted his head almost innocently.

Harry just nodded. The eldest son of the Vongola Ninth had recently been killed. All of Vongola was on high alert, and all of their resources were currently aimed at damage control and vengeance. It was no small feat to kill the future tenth, after all.

“I am sure Vongola will properly appreciate our efforts,” Harry demurred.

Marco nodded. “Exactly. Especially since this one will be… a messy cleanup. ‘Sending a message’, I believe, is the intent behind this one.” Marco glanced at him almost apologetically. “Boss requested you specifically. I trust you to be on your best behaviour.”

“Of course,” Harry tilted his head.

There was the sound of hurried steps approaching Marco’s office and both men automatically twitched for their weapons.

The door burst open and the Ninth flew in, panting, eyes wide.

“It’s a boy,” he said breathlessly. Then his eyes rolled up and he fainted.

They stared at their boss’ fallen form.

“So, Harry… you’re pretty strong, right?”

“Well, better get on that job,” Harry quickly stepped over the Ninth and booked it for the door.

“That’s not till tomorrow!”

“Best get a head start.”

“You can’t just leave me with him!”

Harry slammed the door behind him, just catching sight of Marco’s desperate face as he stared at their snoring boss. He didn’t get paid quite enough to deal with the hysterics of a soon-to-be father.

—

“Oh! Harry, have you seen my dear husband?”

Harry glanced up from where he’d been sharpening his knives. “Last I saw he was taking a nap in Marco’s office.”

Gilda scowled. “That man, I swear he’s not taking this pregnancy seriously. Honestly, what does he think is going to happen when the baby is born! I am certainly not changing all of his diapers myself!”

“I am sure there are many who would be honoured by the opportunity to aide you in such efforts,” Harry soothed.

She eyed him speculatively, and he wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“Say, aren’t you godfather to a little tyke?”

“I am…” Not that Skull needed his mothering anymore…

Gilda smiled. “I am sure you know all about raising a child. I bet you made a fantastic godfather.” She rubbed her stomach in thought. “You know, we haven’t chosen any godparents yet…”

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. “I hardly think I would be the best choice. Or role model…” He reasoned.

Gilda tapped her lips contemplatively. “Perhaps not.” She stared at him for a moment, eyes piercing. “But perhaps. Well, consider yourself on the short list, in the mean time.” She beamed, patted his hand, and turned to continue the hunt for her husband.

Harry leaned back in his chair as he watched her leave.

Godfather.

It was a beautiful word. A beautiful title. A beautiful status.

And part of him glowed at the thought of it.

But to be tied so closely to a mortal being… such a thing brought only pain, and Harry was no masochist. Because one day they would die, and he would be all alone. And the more bonds he formed, the harder it would be in the end.

He let out a mirthless chuckle.

But really. Who was he kidding.

—

Harry glanced down at the baby hitman who looked just a little too innocent.

“Had I known they were going to send you, well, of course I would have done things a little differently. Orders are orders, but I would make an exception for one as magnificent as you…” Reborn bowed deeply.

Harry hummed, more than a little suspicious. Then he opened the door.

He stepped inside, looked around idly, then levelled Reborn with a _look_ , most unimpressed.

The baby turned away just in time, choosing to inspect a discarded gun. One of the few parts of the room not currently splattered in red.

The whole room looked as if it had been freshly painted. There were a fair number of bodies, but still, it was quite impressive how much blood a single body could hold. Really, even on the _ceiling_ …

“I should really be making you help,” Harry said as he turned back to Reborn, only to find the baby napping, a soother in his mouth. “Shameless,” Harry sighed.

—

“I’ll help!” Reborn announced when he awoke from his nap. He picked up a brush that was almost as large as he was and trundled up to the nearest bloodstain. He began to scrub, scowling in concentration. Then he tripped and landed in a puddle of blood. He stood hastily and wandered back to his original spot, leaving small, red footprints on the freshly cleaned floor.

Harry’s lips turned downwards.

—

“So you just burn the bodies, hmm?” Reborn poked one of the corpses curiously.

Harry nodded from where he was unfolding his metal box.

He paused a few moments later with a frown. Was that… smoke?

He turned and stared as Reborn waved his arms at a burning body, the flames flaring higher and higher, leaping towards the ceiling and the chair nearby, and the table not far away -

Harry’s eyebrow twitched.

—

“I can dump that out!” Reborn reached for the bucket full of blood-red water. It was almost as large as he was and he wobbled as he lifted it up, swaying with each step.

And then he slipped on the freshly waxed floor. The bucket slipped with him.

Harry closed his eyes.

—

“Oh! I can - “

“Reborn,” Harry said, affixing a gentle smile on his face. “That’s enough. If you help me one more time, I’m afraid I’ll have to have you join the rest of the corpses.”

The baby paused, then grinned. “As you say… Smiling Terror.”

A knife hit the spot he’d been occupying not a moment ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry stared down at the photo of Skull hugging a tiny octopus. “Do you… do you think he’s replacing me?” His voice wobbled.  
> Reborn sighed.


	13. Wonderful, I'll book you in right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience.

“Skull,” Harry beams when his godson answers the phone. “I have a question. What is your favourite baby item?”

There is a suspicious silence at the other end. Then, “My blanket… why?”

Harry shook his head, even though Skull couldn’t see him. “Just a little someone I’m preparing for,” he replied as he eyed a spool of demiguise-hair thread. He pocketed it in his search for the phoenix-fire torch Talbot _swore_ was in this room.

“A… little someone? Like… like a baby??”

“Yes, a sweet little man is on his way,” Harry beamed. Gilda was almost ready to give birth now, and they were all preparing their gifts for the future heir of the Chiavarone Famiglia.

“A s-sweet little - Harry!” Skull shrieked. “Who was it? Do I need to kill them? Just tell me who it was, and I’ll make sure they regret even considering touching you - “

“Touching me?” Harry cocked his head to the side with a slight frown. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t exactly given much of a choice, but she assured me that I could still say no if I was truly uncomfortable.”

“S-say - of course you should say no, Harry! Oh, that anyone could think to ruin your virtue!” Skull moaned as if in pain.

“Really,” Harry sighed. “I’ve come to terms with what my position will likely be in this. Don’t worry, Skull, you will always be the one closest to my heart. No one could truly replace that.”

“Harry, you - you can’t - you can’t have a - what?” Skull cut off partway through his thought as a squeaking sound caught his attention. “Sorry, Harry, Oodako is hungry. I - I’ll have to call you back, but promise me that you won’t say yes without serious thought. This is a life changing decision!”

“Of course I promise,” Harry replied fondly, even as his fist clenched. Ookado. The cute little octopus that loved to interrupt all of their conversations. “Call me soon, won’t you?”

“Of course I will! Ack - Oodako, wait - “ the line went dead.

Harry lowered his phone and stared at it a little dully. This was not the first time such an interruption had happened. Uncertainty curled in his gut.

Oodako.

Was this… a rival?

—

Harry hummed as he threaded the needle through the cloth. He felt gently along the invisible thread he was using to ensure that it was still there. He had to angle the cloth every few moments just to keep track of the runes that he was sewing. Demiguise hair was powerful and would protect the future heir, but it was also rather difficult to work with.

He’d had Luna teach him how to stitch by hand, to ensure that the enchantments took. He used his own magic to prod the thread to life, invisible on the blanket but charged with powerful intent.

Protection. Because for the sole heir of a Famiglia, the future was rife with danger.

Harry hoped, of course, that the child would never need it. That his childhood would be spared all pain and suffering. But he knew not to fool himself into complacency. Every Famiglia had enemies, and this one was no exception.

He had not yet agreed to be godfather - he still hoped that they would find another. One who was not cursed. Who would not have to disappear for time unknown. Perhaps one who knew what it truly meant to be human. Because with each breath that Harry took, he could taste the lingering essence of Death.

It was something that would never change, this chain wrapped around Harry’s very soul. This cold that dulled him, that kept him chilled and distant. Harry paused his motions, his eyes distant, his breath puffing out a thick white fog. The air felt cool around him, and he could hear the rattle of bones.

There was a crooning in his ear, and the touch of a cold hand upon his cheek. Harry’s eyes closed and he leaned into it, hating and loving the way it cradled his head, sending a beautiful cold throughout his body.

It was only the thought of Skull, his dearest godson, that sent a burst of warmth and allowed him to break from the icy hold. He sat upright, and allowed Death to sigh away, back into the edges of his vision.

His hand smoothed over the blanket he was working on. Skull, and the strange, strange family that he had started building.

 _How odd_ , he mused as his hands began stitching once more. He certainly hadn’t meant to allow so many people into his life.

He couldn’t help the way his smile grew.

—

Takoyaki? Harry browsed the _Guide to Japan_ curiously. Skull had sent it to him in the hopes that he would visit. It certainly looked like they had incredible food. He eyed the photo contemplatively.

“Oh? Thinking of travelling?”

Harry glanced up at the sound of Gilda’s voice. “Mm, perhaps.”

“Please take this little man with you if you do go,” she sighed theatrically. “He’s so very restless.” She stroked her distended stomach. “Keeps kicking my bladder.”

Harry’s lips quirked upwards. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure he’d love it.”

Gilda laughed brightly. “I knew I could count on you!” Then she paused, a strange look upon her face.

Harry half-stood from his desk.

“I think…” Gilda glanced down at her stomach. “I think the baby’s coming.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He glanced desperately at Maria’s desk.

Empty, of course.

“Right,” he said. “Right.” His fingers trembled as he lifted his phone and dialled. “Right.”

—

A scream rang out from the room, loud and pained. A midwife barked orders and the nurses scrambled to obey.

Just outside, Marco was supporting the Ninth, who looked worryingly pale, eyes fixated on the closed door.

Maria hovered nearby, finger tapping on her arm.

Harry sat in the corner, hand running absently over the blanket he would soon be presenting to the newborn.

He breathed in and his eyes narrowed. Because he knew all too well what death smelled like.

—

“A healthy baby boy,” the midwife said as she stepped from the room. The sound of a baby squalling reached their ears and they all relaxed, except for the Ninth who had fainted a while ago and was still out.

“And Gilda?” Harry asked, almost a little sharply.

“There was a close call,” the midwife admitted, “but she’s fine now. There were no further complications.”

There was a surge of relief that rippled across their expressions. They filed in, the Ninth carried in Marco’s arms. It was then that they presented their gifts. A mobile from Marco. A stuffed bear from Maria. And a blanket from Harry.

It was a happy moment, and one of tears when the new father did finally awaken.

And yet Harry couldn’t help but frown as he stared out at the shadow that fluttered across his vision, invisible to all else.

Because Death had yet to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Skull said he got a new job,” Harry said a little too casually.  
> “Oh, yes,” Reborn laughed. A worryingly sadistic sound. “It’ll be good training.”  
> “The Carcassa Famiglia? Really? They’re scum! Worse than scum! They don’t deserve to breathe in the presence of my dear sweet godson,” Harry slammed his drink down.  
> Reborn sniffed. “I told him to take over their military. He seemed very keen. He’ll be running the whole thing in no time.”  
> “Lowest of the low. I should just send them all into the afterlife.”  
> “Character, dear Harry. He’ll build character.”


	14. I'll just need your name and number

“I heard that baby Dino opened his eyes this morning,” Marco grinned. “The Ninth fainted twice.”

“Only twice?” Maria laughed.

Harry hummed, distracted as Death chuckled in his ear.

“He was too busy crying to faint,” Marco replied drily.

The sound of their voices faded as Death crooned. Harry froze, his head turning to face the West Wing. That was where - Harry half stood, something cold working its way up his spine.

The other two paused, frowning as they saw him move.

“What - “ Maria began.

_Boom_.

The ground shook and the lamps rattled and dust drifted from newly formed cracks in the walls.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Eyes met, a mere second needed to convey what needed to be done.

Smoke rose from the West Wing of the manor. The three of them moved without hesitation, weapons unholstered as they ran.

_Gilda_. Harry took deep, careful breaths as he ran, eyes narrowed. _Dino_.

They were fast, the three of them. Behind them, doors opened and more of their men streamed after them. But they were not fast enough. This, Harry knew to be an absolute truth. As they were, they were simply _not good enough_.

Beside him, Death laughed, deep and resonant like the thudding of a coffin lid.

No. No, Harry could not accept that.

He breathed, in and out. In, he breathed time, and out, he breathed space.

His form blurred, and with a sound like a sigh **,** he was no longer there.

“ _You can’t have him_.” Gilda’s voice rang in his ears before he could see her. “Not Dino. I won’t let you touch him.”

Harry’s breath hitched and as he stepped through the air, he saw the bullet pierce her chest, and felt it as if it had struck his own heart.

Cold.

Numb.

Death grinned in his ear.

She fell before the cradle of her son, defiance curving her posture till the end.

Harry was moving before she even hit the ground, knife in one hand, gun in the other. The first enemy went down in a spray of blood. The next fell, a bullet between his eyes.

Behind Harry, the cradle lay untouched, the silver threads of Dino’s blanket catching in the light.

Grunting, Harry thrust his knife upwards, catching yet another in the throat, then wrenching the blade out and driving it through the heart of the one trying to sneak up on the other side of him.

“Not a chance,” he snarled as he lifted his gun, shooting one who was inching his way towards the crib.

But he didn’t see the one hiding beneath the window. The one that leapt into the room, gun in hand, and shot right at baby Dino’s head.

And then all Harry could do was jump.

The door burst open.

And pain burst in his chest.

Harry crumpled, his breaths stuttering. He felt Death’s claws rake through his hair, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.

“Not,” Harry wheezed, “yet.”

There was shouting, but all Harry could hear was the cold hum of Death.

And then everything went dark.

—

Harry woke suddenly, his body tensing, only to seize up as pain flared on the right side of his chest. He grunted, his eyes darting around the room, his fingers twitching as he tried to move. He had to - had to check -

“He’s awake,” a relieved voice rang out from behind him.

He paused. He knew that voice.

“Don’t let him move,” another warned. “He will reopen his wound if he does, and I _just_ stitched it up - “

Maria’s face popped up beside him. Her eyes were red but she wore a hint of a smile. “Hi,” she said.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but could only croak.

“You’ve been out for over a day. They thought you’d be asleep for a few more days, but I told them you heal fast.”

Harry blinked.

Her smile wavered. “Marco is - is with the Ninth.”

His eyes narrowed, but Death was a mere whisper now, so he did not try to move.

“Dino is fine,” Maria hurried to reassure him. “Not a scratch upon him. Like magic, really,” she laughed, though there was only hysterical relief in her voice. “Someone was looking out for him.”

Harry waited as she glanced out the window, taking a deep breath to compose herself. He felt cold, deep inside.

“Gilda - “ she halted, her voice wavering.

Harry closed his eyes.

—

“She wanted you to be godfather.”

Harry stared at the Ninth from where he was sitting, gently propped against a large mound of pillows. “I couldn’t save her,” he said. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

The Ninth’s fists clenched. He glared. “Neither was I,” he snarled. “I wasn’t even _there_. I should have died defending our child, not her. It was my job to protect them both.”

Their eyes met, one set blank, one set fiery in rage and grief.

Then Harry huffed a laugh. “She would skin you alive for even daring to think that.”

The Ninth closed his eyes and choked a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, she would.” There was a moment of silence as the Ninth ran a hand through his hair. Then his expression sobered. “Harry - “

And Harry sighed. Because how could he say no?

He nodded.

The Ninth slumped in relief. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. If anything happens to me - “

“I’ll be here for him,” Harry promised. “As long as he needs me.”

For a moment he thought he heard a cold chuckle in his ear, but as his eyes flicked to the side, he saw nothing, not even the shadow of Death.

—

“Well,” Harry murmured as he tucked the blanket up under Dino’s chin. He traced a gentle touch down the baby’s soft cheek. “Your mama loved you beyond measure. She gave her life for you. Just like mine.” There was warmth where his hand rested on Dino’s head. “Your childhood,” Harry promised, “will be nothing like mine. Not with your father here, not with me here.”

Dino gurgled and grabbed Harry’s finger.

Harry closed his eyes, but could sense only a whisper of Death’s presence.

Good.

Harry would ensure that it stayed that way for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And who,” Harry asked, eyes narrowed upon those gathered in the lunch room, “thought it would be a good idea to gift Dino a gun for his first birthday?”
> 
> A sea of faces turned guilty.
> 
> Baby Dino laughed and clapped his hands.


End file.
